


Conquered

by DemonsDaughter



Series: Collared [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Character Death, Collars, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Knotting, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mech Pets, Mech Preg, Medical Procedures, Mpreg, Physical Abuse, Prisoner of War, Rape Recovery, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 87,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/pseuds/DemonsDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war for Cybertron has ended and the Decepticons have lost. The Decepticon Justice Divison are hunted like mechanimals, eventually found in the vast cyber forest outside of Iacon by their former victims, the Scavengers. No longer holding any power, the captured bots are collared and become the pets of those whom they once considered their prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

~Here are some wonderful images of the DJD and the Scavengers from the MTMTE comics! Just in case anyone wants to refresh their memory on what they look like before the story (I won't be using Flywheels since I assume at this time he is long dead) 

http://peng-ko.tumblr.com/post/73202574283/tfwatermelon-eabevella-tfwatermelon

 

The Decepticon Justice Division had survived in the vast cyber forest outside Iacon and Vos, having taken refuge there when the war had suddenly ended and left them on the losing side. They were being hunted as beasts now, bots searching for them and every other Decepticon they could find. The Autobots had already captured a great deal of them, but not all had been claimed. A few of the smartest Decepticons were left running for their lives.

"I hear something approaching, Tarn." Kaon said, turning his head towards the noise that he heard coming ever closer through the wilderness. He might be blind, but the other senses he possessed were invaluable to the team.

"So be it. We will have to kill them as there is nowhere to run," Tarn growled, the massive tank tense as he waited for whatever or whoever was coming towards them. Tesarus and Helex had taken up position in front of the smaller mechs, Kaon and Vos in an attempt to protect them.

It happened so fast Tarn almost didn't know how to fight back. Someone shot Tesarus, the huge grinder letting out a snarl as he charged into the brush to meet whichever enemy had made a lucky hit. He didn't care that it was a foolish action whatsoever-he just wanted to make whoever shot him suffer twice as much.

Tesarus was shocked to find he came faceplate to faceplate with some bots they have been hunting long before the war had taken a turn for the worse. These five bots were the Scavengers. Krok, Spinister, Crankcase, Misfire, and Fulcrum. He knew the designations well and was surprised to find the band of former traitors there at all. What would they be doing in a forest and why would they have the nerve to attempt an attack on their former attackers?

"You!" he snarled, faceplate molding into a snarl as someone shot him again. He whipped around to see that it was Crankcase, the mech holding a...strange looking gun. It was no blaster or pellet gun, the barrel too long and skinny for that. "You think you can take us on? I'll be happy to make you into shredded mincemeat!" Tesarus jeered, trying to make his frame look even bigger by flaring his armor.

"You're all going down, DJD. Nighty-night, you little slags." Crankcase answered, rising his gun again at the grinder.

Tesarus hissed again when he was shot and suddenly felt...tired. He made a deep growl and lunged at Crankcase, trying to grab him and snap his puny little neck. He crashed into a trunk of a cyber tree instead, his vision darkening strangely before it came back online. He felt another sharp pinch in his lower back and roared with fury, turning around and finding his pedes wouldn't work correctly.

The massive mech stumbled and crashed into the ground by Crankcase's pedes, vision blurring and going dark again. Tesarus made a softer growl and tried to rise again only to find his limbs felt too heavy to move, his frame betraying him. Now he was at the mercy of the Scavengers.

"That's right. Stay down and when you wake up, things will be different." Crankcase hissed, kicking Tesarus hard in the faceplate before he turned to the others. "Takes four darts to bring down the big ones."

"Alright, bots. Go in there and take them out. Tesarus isn't going to be a problem anymore." Krok commanded, sending his mechs into the DJD's campsite to bring down the others.

He was met head on by Tarn, the tank battling furiously while his soldiers attacked the others. Kaon was the next of the DJD to go down, his lack of optics proving a terrible disadvantage when combating darts. He took two to his left side and was on the ground in the next two clicks. Twitching slightly, he fell into a drugged recharge, the last three DJD members staring in horror.

"Run! They're trying to capture, not kill! It's for collaring!" Tarn howled, punching Krok hard in the head as he took on Crankcase we well. They were badly outnumbered now and it was surely going to be the end of them.

Vos chattered something in Primal Vernacular and scrambled into a cyber tree, disappearing behind all the chrome branches and thin metal leaves. Spinister and Fulcrum both took aim, but Fulcrum quickly realized that it was a horrible idea.

"Spinister! Wait! If we shoot him now, he'll....fall."

There was a loud yelp and suddenly a crash, Vos's limp frame slamming into branches as he came back down to the ground. He landed with a horrible snap and let out an agonized keen, frame twitching from a broken spinal strut. Helex roared his fury, grabbing Spinister by his rotor blades and hurling him into Misfire, the two tumbling over from the force of the hit.

Fulcrum saw the beast of a mech turn his murderous attention to him and shot him three times, the darts slowing him but not quite enough to bring him down. Helex had almost reached Fulcrum when he let out a deep groan and clawed at his neck, a dart now stuck in his main energon line. The sedative rushed right into his systems and brought him to his knees, the smelter slowly collapsing and laying on his side in a miserable heap.

-Got your back, pinhead!- Misfire whooped, giving his friend a thumbs up and a wave of his dart gun. How Misfire hadn't missed for once was a mystery to Fulcrum, but he was glad of it. Otherwise he might have been pummeled into scrap by the huge titan of a mech laying nearby.

-Thanks- Fulcrum vented over the com link frequency, feeling relief. Tarn was still fighting, but he could see he already had three darts in him and his motions were slowing. One or two more and he'd be down for the count. And then they would have the entire Decepticon Justice Division.

He didn't think he would keep any of them as a pet, so he'd have to sell whichever bot he was assigned by Krok when they got back to Iacon. Why anyone would want a former DJD member as a slave was beyond him. The bots were vicious and not ever meant to be tamed, so he'd leave that impossible task for some other Cybertronian to figure out.

Tarn grabbed Krok's hands and began to crush them in his powerful grip, optics blazing with hate. Using his vocalizer hadn't seemed to work this time, the mechs having disconnected their audio receptors before entering the fray. That was unfortunate for him, having to use brute strength rather than his revered powers to win.

Krok was not phased by the attack, actually glad the Decepticon had chosen such a move. It allowed him to stay still a little better and help Crankcase get a better shot at his neck with the dart gun.

Two more cracks of a gun went off, followed by a sharp snarl and then a thump, Tarn succumbing to the drugs in darts and crumpling down to his knees. From there he was kicked over onto his side by Krok, the leader of the Scavengers shooting him one more time to make sure he would stay down. They did not need him waking up until he was brought back to the collaring station.

"Good work. We got all of them." Krok said, sending the signal they could all online their audio receptors. The bots beamed at their good work, dragging Tesarus's limp frame into the campsite with the others. Vos was still half awake, whimpering like crazy and twitching violently.

Krok didn't like bots to suffer, not even the horrible ones. He shot Vos again with a dart and put him down, the twitching sadly not ceasing. It was a serious medical issue, so once they got back via ground bridge they would need to bring the gun former to a medic right away.

"Alright, now we get to have the fun of assigning bots to each of you. I get Tarn. I am the leader of the group and it is only fitting the tank becomes mine. As for Tesarus...how about you take him, Crankcase?"

"Whatever," Crankcase huffed, although he was happy to have gained the grinder mech as a huge pet. He would have him altered to be no danger, of course, but he wanted to keep him.

"Spinister, how about you take Kaon? He's calm and should be little trouble for you. Fulcrum, I want you to take Helex. I think you can handle him just fine."

"H-Helex?!" Fulcrum yelped, not having wanted the massive smelter at all. He wished he could have gotten Kaon...

"Sell him or trade for a different pet," Krok said with a shrug. "The big ones fetch more credits. So that leaves you with Vos, Misfire. We'll get him fixed up for you and then he'll be worth something."

"He's all busted up, but okay..." Misfire grumbled, looking at the twitching form of the strange mech. He wouldn't be much fun, so it wasn't exactly an ideal match for the aerial.

"Alright, get your bots and I'll call the ground bridge," Krok said, comming Tyrest's collaring warehouse to announce they were coming in with five recently captured Decepticons.

The ground bridge appeared a few clicks later, the smaller mechs easily brought through while the larger three had to be dragged. Fulcrum stared when he found himself in a massive building full of cages, Decepticons and drones with the brand locked inside. Others were out on harsh metal tables being examined and then collared before being drugged again and taken out to the auction house.

"You bots looking to keep these or sell?" a red and yellow Autobot asked simply, turning from his table where a drone was being examined.

"Keeping mine." Krok said, pointing to Tarn's form.

"Alright, give me a few clicks."

Fulcrum watched as the drone was roughly handled and thrown around on the metal table, his face mask pried back to reveal his mouth. The red and yellow mech forced it open and checked to make sure he was not carrying any diseases there or had any imperfections. Next the valve and spike covers were yanked aside and checked, the mech jabbing two fingers into the dark purple valve slit and grinning.

"Got a virgin one, here!"

Another green Autobot came and hauled the softly whimpering drone away, the mech still somewhat conscious as he had been cruelly handled. It made Fulcrum look down at Helex's rather peaceful recharging faceplate. Was he really going to sentence him to all that? The war was over and they really should find ways to forgive one another, not...not do THIS.

"Alright, which ones are being kept and sold?"

"Keeping my tank."

"The grinder's mine."

"Gotta get Vos fixed up and see after that. Far as I know he's a keeper."

"I...want to keep my bot, too." Fulcrum said last, optics turning away from another table where a blue and black Decepticon truck model was being examined in the same way as the drone. It was horrible and disgusting, something no bot should have to go through.

"Alright, so you want collars and exams or just collars?"

"Just collars for all of us." Krok said, not liking the strangeness of the warehouse, either. He could tell it was unnerving to his soldiers, so he wouldn't keep them there any longer than necessary.

"Sure. I'll get the collars for ya. Those will be one hundred credits each."

"Rip-off artists." Crankcase spat as the mech went off to get five of the collars.

"Sure are." Misfire agreed, looking down at Vos with a worried expression. "Do you think he'll be okay? I like my free 'Con..."

"We'll get him to a good medic. Pharma knows them apparently, so we'll bring him tree for repairs." Krok said, hushing again when the Autobot helping them returned.

"Here you go." he said, the two exchanging credits for collars. Once five of them were held in Krok's hands, he passed them out to his bots and told them not to put them on until they got back to their shared home. An extra moment in the warehouse, even to put the collars on, would probably be too much for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Krok led the rest of the group back to the apartment while Misfire took Vos to Pharma's medical clinic not too far from there. He was almost always busy, but he'd make room for an emergency case. The aerial looked down at the shaking form of the former DJD member, the new collar clipped around his neck a dark gray with royal blue energon running through it. It was the kind that could conduct electricity and shock him should he disobey.

"You waking up?" he asked as he stepped through the sliding doors of the med bay, Vos making a quiet groan of pain. The sedatives would not last forever.

"What did you bring in here? If you want the bot fixed, you'll have to sign up for an appointment at a different time. I-Misfire?" Pharma asked, shocked to see the former Decepticon holding a twitching bot in his arms.

"Pharma, I need your help! Well, I don't exactly but my new pet does! Shot Vos in a tree and he landed on his back. We don't know if he broke something but he hasn't stopped doing this twitching thing ever since we got back here and bought collars. Can you fix him?"

Pharma dropped the tools he was cleaning and ran over to take Vos, the mech's optics slowly coming back online. They were filled with hurt at his wound, the mech shaking uncontrollably in the medic's arms.

"Who would shoot him when he was in a tree?!"

"Spinister."

"Dumb bot shoots everything. Primus, help us." Pharma muttered, taking Vos over to a cot and laying him down on his chassis to get a look at his back. He scanned it and frowned, seeing quite a bit of damage inside. His spinal strut was broken in four places and his nerve nodes were either ruptured or pinched by crushed plating so they were no longer able to function.

"This will be a long repair. He'll have to stay over the lunar cycle and perhaps more." Pharma said, comming some of his other medics to come help. They were on their recharge shift, but this was too serious to ignore.

"Alright, I'll come back tomorrow, then! See ya, Vossy. I'll be back to pick you up soon!"

Pharma got out what he needed and put Vos under, the mech making a soft hiss at the pain when he was moved a little further onto the medical cot. Pharma ignored it, the mech soon to be asleep and make no protests about any of it.

'That's how it should be...' Pharma thought with a glare, glad two of his medics had come down from the rooms above the main med bay. They would be able to help him reconstruct the damage done and hopefully bring Vos back to his full potential.

***

"Did you get Vos to Pharma okay?" Fulcrum asked when Misfire came back to their shared living areas. Helex was at his pedes in a groggy state, the collar for him not yet around his neck. Fulcrum was holding it in his hands and looking unsure as to what he wanted to do with it. Misfire nodded and made a soft huff.

"Fragging sucks the bot I get assigned is the damaged one! I'm kinda slagged at Krok for that. You sure you want to keep Helex, here? The big ones have got to be more fun! Once you get them all harmless so they can't turn on you, of course. Because I don't think a shock collar is going to stop him if he wants to murder you" Misfire said cheerfully, although he frowned when he saw the shock collar was not on Helex as he'd been saying.

"You going to put that on him? Because if you can't for some reason, I can do it for you, pinhead. The bot's super dangerous like that if he wakes up."

"I can do it myself, I just...it doesn't seem right! To collar up bots after the war is over? It's horrible! And what they were doing to them in the warehouse was appalling! They're bots, too, even if no one wants to admit it." Fulcrum said firmly, not one of the firm believers in Decepticon enslavement. Misfire merely shrugged.

"I'm glad to have one, but I'll take two if you don't want him."

"I...I don't know. Let me think about it." Fulcrum said, dragging Helex's deadweight form into his room and shutting the door. He didn't want to be bothered anymore about his new pet.

Helex made a soft groan when he was laid out on the floor and each of the darts were taken out, the mech growling softly at the last one. He was waking up and the collar had to go on whether Fulcrum wanted to do it to him or not. Taking the metal band, he slipped it over Helex's neck, watching as it automatically adjusted to fit him.

It shocked him when it chose the correct size and caused him to jolt upright, entirely awake. He snarled at Fulcrum and scrambled to get up off the floor. Once he was one his two pedes, he swung a larger arm from his second set and tried to punch Fulcrum right into the far wall. All it succeeded in doing was shocking him harshly, the collar recognizing he was trying to fight his new master.

Fulcrum covered his audio receptors as Helex howled and crumpled to his knees, hands grasping at the collar as if it would help it turn off. It finally stopped shocking him when he fully stood down from the attack and lay on the floor, sides heaving from the blazing pain.

"P-please don't try it again. I don't want you to be hurt." Fulcrum said honestly, a little shaky after that display. Helex lifted his head to glare at Fulcrum, molten optics murderous as could be.

"How have you programmed it? Will I be shocked for speaking as well?"

"No, of course not! Only for attacking me...or others. So please, please don't."

Helex rose to his full height and snarled softly, making Fulcrum back up a few paces before he turned to find where he would recharge. Now that he was a prisoner of war, he expected to be placed somewhere miserable.

"You get to sleep in the berth if you want. But it might be a tight fit with both of us..."

"I am NOT sharing a berth with the likes of you, Fulcrum." Helex spat, looking like he might attack again. "I will sleep on the floor like you and your little troop of Autobots want. I don't know how they accepted you into their ranks, but I suppose being traitors of the Decepticons it makes you Autobot."

Helex said nothing more as he curled up on the floor and stayed there in a massive heap of living metal, optics not dulling at all. He kept them open and watched Fulcrum, the mech fidgeting nervously under the intense gaze. Maybe he should let Misfire have him. This whole slave thing was not for him.

"I don't want you to recharge on the floor! I don't agree with this slavery business at all!"

"Then why am I wearing a collar?!" Helex spat, grabbing Fulcrum's leg all of a sudden in a vicious grip. Fulcrum's shout of surprise and pain was easily covered over by Helex's scream of agony, the collar jolting him viciously until he released and ended up on the floor again.

"Stop trying to fight!"

Helex said nothing, knowing that was an impossible thing to ask. He would always fight. All of them would until one solar cycle they were free.

***

Kaon woke up in an entirely different environment than he had been in before. Being blind was a problem when he was brought someplace entirely unknown to him. His brothers were not there to aid him and he was now the property of whichever Scavenger he had been handed over to. He could feel the slave collar around his neck and felt like he wanted to scream with rage and misery. He was no more than a pretty mechanimal now.

"Don't move!" Spinister's voice hissed from his left side, the former member of the DJD laying still on the floor where he had been left. "Something is here with us..."

All of a sudden there was the sound of a blaster going off and then the crack of a ruined ceiling light and paneling. Kaon winced slightly as shards of glass and metal bits came showering down on him, the fizzing of the ruined fixture sparking a few times before it went silent. Well, now he knew he was stuck with the craziest of the group, the trigger happy Spinister. It was only a matter of time before the aerial shot him for something. One wrong move and he would be finished.

'So be it. I don't really want to stick around like this, anyways.' Kaon thought to himself, realizing death was preferable to being a slave for Primus knew how long. He knew what happened to slaves from the radio waves they had intercepted from the cyber forest. Constant interfacing, mutilation, torture...all of it was in store for him and his former band of traitor hunters.

"Spinister, please shoot me, too." he asked politely, turning his head in the direction of the venting. He heard rotor blades clicking as the mech moved to face him.

"No, I'd rather not."

"So you plan on keeping me."

"Yes."

"As a slave?"

"As a pet."

Kaon vented inwardly. He was doomed.

"I want you to shoot me and get this torture over with."

"I would rather fix you. Your optics are missing." Spinister answered, the mech moving closer and touching Kaon's helm. The bot flinched and pulled away, expecting pain but finding notne. "No, no. None of that moving. I need you to be still so I can fix it."

"I don't want to be fixed! I've been like this forever!"

"But seeing is a good thing." Spinister said softly, tone saying he didn't understand why the bot wouldn't want his optics back.

"Leave it." Kaon commanded, although he had the feeling the mech wouldn't allow him to do as he liked. He'd probably have some shoddy optic job done and be even more miserable than before.

Spinister was leaning down so he could get a really good look at him and saw the bot had been created without his optics somehow. Being a field medic, his knowledge told him this was a genetic malfunction in his CNA, nothing that had been done to him after creation. He wanted the bot to experience what vision was all about, so he would need to start gaining his trust and get the okay to go ahead with repairs at some point.

"Time for bed." Spinister decided, picking Kaon up and heading over to the berth. Kaon was about to complain, hushing when he was hugged close to the other mech's chest and spooned with.

Kaon tensed, getting ready for a hand to go between his legs and demand his panels open. But to his surprise, he got none such treatment. Spinister continued to hug him around the lower middle, only moving one arm in order to pull a soft mesh blanket over them and tuck them in. It was beyond strange to the former Decepticon, but he wasn't going to fight it. If he wasn't being raped, it was acceptable.

"Nighty-night." Spinister added, nuzzling his faceplate into Kaon's neck and squeezing him tight again before recharge. Kaon said nothing, just laying there feeling his new master's arms on his waist and the collar clipped around his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

Tarn woke after he was dragged into a med bay, the sterile scent and the cold floor slowly bringing him out of his drug induced slumber. The tank groaned softly, being picked up and carried somewhere. He tried to kick whoever was handling him, but the only thing his leg managed to do was twitch feebly.

"Alright, what are you here for?" a voice he didn't know sounding distant and yet right over him.

"Nullify the tank canon and put in the vocalizer chip that stops him from manipulating sparks."

"Don't want him fixed during the procedure? That's what all the bots are about these solar cycles."

"No, no. If that needs to happen it can be later."

Tarn made a soft groan again and tried to sit up. He couldn't lose his vocalizer chip or his tank canon! He fussed as best he could in a somewhat sedated state, optics flickering on. They locked onto a blurry version of Krok and some medic that looked a little like Pharma. But they all looked alike to the former leader of the DJD. All he cared about was that he was going to be ruined, though, not what medic was going to do it to him.

"N..nnn...n-o..." he begged, raising a hand and weakly pawing at the visions.

"I'm not taking off your canon, just nullifying it so you can't kill anyone." the medic said gruffly as Tarn fought the sedative from the darts. It was working, the mech's head feeling clearer and clearer the more he moved around and forced himself to think.

"Tarn, be still." Krok growled firmly, a hand suddenly coming down on the tank's neck.

Tarn lost it. He snarled and threw himself with all his strength off the medical cot and fell onto the floor, scrambling to his pedes and swaying slightly as he stood. Scarlet optics that normally blazed with hate flared with terror, the bot unwilling to lose what he held dear to him. Without his canon potential and vocalizer...he was nothing.

"Please...I won't...fight you." he vented, watching as the two bots closed in on him. The medic had a dart gun and he knew it was over already. But he was going to fight it.

"Tarn, get on the floor." Krok said calmly, taking out his own dart gun from the hunt and aiming it at the mech.

"Please...PLEASE." Tarn begged, a hand covering his throat area.

The medic moved so quickly it was surprising, dropping the dart gun and tackling the huge tank. He was nowhere near his full fighting potential, so Tarn went down with a crash. This doctor knew what he was doing and he either had a lot of patients who didn't comply or he knew how to fight. Most likely the latter due to the way he was pinned.

"Stay down."

Tarn let out a howl of fury mixed with hate as a sharp pinch went into the main energon line of his neck. Lukewarm fluid rushed in and he knew without a doubt he would be unconscious within a click or two. Fighting it anyways, the tank let loose another horrible sound of terror and rage, the reality that he would be ruined too much to face.

"Try not to hurt him, Ratchet. I don't have unlimited amounts of credits." Krok said, trying to make it sound more like he cared only for the credits and not Tarn.

Krok did hate Tarn-loathed him, even-but there was some part of him that wouldn't allow such horrible mistreatment to come to him as it had many other Decepticons. Tarn was a terrible bot, and for many things could not be forgiven, but he had been doing what he'd done only because of orders. Stolen off the streets and manipulated in Shockwave's lab hardly made him the truly vile one. He was just acting thanks to what he was commanded to do.

Ratchet let Tarn up, the mech making it halfway to his pedes before he keeled over and scrabbled at the floor a little. Everything was getting muted and blurred again, the mech reliving the sensations he had felt when he had taken the darts. Venting in strained huffs, he tried to rise again only to slide back down as his arms refused to support him.

"Tarn, easy...easy, now. You're done." Krok said firmly, the commanding tone working on Tarn because he stayed where he was on the med bay floor, dulling optics looking at his new "master." He didn't want to submit to anyone, but there was little choice now. "I won't do anything to you that will make you miserable, I promise. Now behave."

Tarn faded into recharge after that, the word "behave" echoing in his drug fogged mind until he went fully under.

***

Crankcase had already taken Tesarus to a different medic and was glad to find he was all set to pick up. Still sedated, he managed to drag the mech to the med bay ground bridge and plug in the coordinates for their own at the shared home.

"Alright, you stupid grinder. Try to take down a bot now! Flywheels would be proud if he could see what you look like now-pathetic." Crankcase muttered as he left a collared Tesarus on the floor and went out of the room to grab himself an energon cube.

He'd read up on how to fully train new Decepticon pets and the first rule with the stubborn and aggressive ones was to break them. Rip away all that made them feel powerful and show them you were the one in charge. Crankcase would use fuel as a reward for good things Tesarus did, knowing a large type of bot like him would need a lot to function correctly. It would all take varying times depending on how much the bot was willing to give in or how much they wanted to fight. No one case was exactly the same.

'Whatever. I'll get him doing what I want soon enough. We have a lot of time to work on it.' Crankcase thought, drinking down half of his cube before he though to enter the berthroom again.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Tesarus was starting to wake up. The mech was groaning softly, feeling sore all over and wondering what had happened. He rolled over and tried to use his smaller set of arms, the ones he used to use for holding bots in the grinder blades, only to find he didn't feel them anymore. He looked down, mouth actually dropping open in shock. His smaller set of arms were gone.

"Frag..." he whispered when he saw his grinder blades entirely removed. He was now smooth all the way around the open part of his chassis, weak as could be and without a true weapon.

The shock of it all made him lay still, mind trying hard to come up with ways to handle the situation. He could get angry, but there was no burning fury inside him. The sight was more appalling than it was enraging. Shaking slightly, Tesarus stood and hugged himself tight around the middle as if to hide it away. It felt naked and ashamed without the blades. Without those he was nothing.

Once the initial realization he had lost his weapons was processed, he felt the new weight of a collar around his neck and snarled, grabbing a chair and hurling it across the room. The collar wasn't programmed to stop him from doing that! He whipped around and slammed a massive fist into a crystal lamp, shattering it and sending the broken pieces onto the floor.

"What in the hell is going on?!" Crankcase demanded, throwing open the door to find a rampaging Tesarus looking back at him. The mech was quivering with fury, optics wild and his hands clenched tightly into fists.

"Get...away...from me." Tesarus hissed between heavy vents, the bot trying to control himself before he got shocked. He'd heard Helex screaming from two rooms down and knew it had to hurt like a glitch if that mech was howling.

"Tesarus, sit down." Crankcase snapped, using short commands and hoping the bot would obey right away. Tesarus didn't, defiantly glaring down his master.

"No. I'm not doing a damn thing you want. I can't hurt you, but I can hurt all your positions and myself. So if you don't watch it you won't have a little pet to play around with," Tesarus threatened darkly, the window more than big enough for him to break and jump out of should he decide he wanted to end himself.

"I'll have to chain you up to the wall if you can't handle being loose."

"Try it. See how well that contains me." the grinder challenged, dentas barred in a silent snarl.

Crankcase took out the slave collar remote and pressed the blue button to shock Tesarus and send him to the floor. The mech loosed a high pitched roar and collapsed right away, clawing at his neck as he jerked and twisted in agony. Crankcase kept up the shocking voltage as he dragged the mech one handed across the floor to a metal ring he had installed in the wall. It wouldn't break easily, made of the same stuff the collars were.

The former Scavenger clipped the collar ring onto a shot length of chain made of the same special metal and attached that to the wall. From there he took out stasis cuffs (not turned on to stasis) and slapped them around Tesarus's wrists once he grabbed them and held him steady enough to get them on. Now he would be little trouble. He'd be able to get on hands and knees and move a little bit away from the wall, but not by much.

"There. That's what you get for misbehaving, Con. And don't think I won't do it again! You haven't suffered nearly enough for what you did to Flywheels."

Tesarus lay there shaking, saying nothing in reply. The sheer, blazing agony from the collar was surprising and it had stunned him into submission, at least for the time being. Now he knew exactly how his Division brother had felt when he had been cruelly punished.

"Did you hear me?!"

Tesarus didn't answer with words, instead nodding his head once in confirmation. Crankcase seemed pleased enough with that, heading over to his berth to read like nothing had happened. The grinder tucked his faceplate into his lower arm and tried to imagine a better place where he was free again.


	4. Chapter 4

Vos came to inside a small metal box with some bars to the outside for him to look through. It took him a good breem to figure out he was in a cage much like one a bot would put a mechanimal in after a surgery at the vet. It was nothing a Cybertronian being should be kept in. But he was not considered a Cybertronian because of his former faction brand. Now he was just a pet.

Muttering to himself in Primal Vernacular about how annoyed he was to be in a cage, Vos tried to sit up and yank on the bars. At least it would get someone to come over and feed him. His tank was low on energon after all he had been through. He'd been on the run and not been offered a thing since he was captured. The movement sent a flash of white hot pain through his body from a repairing and very sore spinal strut. The mech keened loudly and lay back down, whining at the horrible ache.

Vos twisted just enough to see he had been put in a special kind of back brace as well. It would keep him from damaging the recently done repairs when he moved. How long he had to wear the uncomfortable thing was unknown to him, so for now all he could focus on was the aches and pains.

"Oh, good. You're up." a voice from outside the cage said. "Misfire was just called and he'll be picking you up shortly. Don't do any moves and mess up what I worked on with my top medics for a whole lunar cycle. Your back will hurt, but it's repaired. Rest for a few solar cycles and it should improve."

Vos said nothing in return, wishing he could smash himself against the bars and cause the medic to jump. Sometimes being the "crazy one," was not always a bad thing. It let him get away with some fun things at times.

He flinched when he heard a main door to the room open and whistling float into the med bay. There was more chatter in the sharper tone of language Vos renounced and then there was a mech staring into the cage at him. Vos pushed himself back against the far wall of the metal prison, optics watching the other bot warily.

"Vossy! You made it out okay! I'm glad to hear it, little bot! Let's get you back home and settle you in, okay? I got all sorts of fuel waiting!"

Vos bristled at the nickname but could do nothing when the cage door opened and hands reached out toward him. He didn't want to be picked up in general and certainly not when he was hurting and his back was braced. Hissing nastily as he was pulled out of the cage, his fingers curled around the mesh blanket and caused it to come out with him.

"Hey, what gives? I got you repaired, so you should be grateful!" Misfire snapped, the gun-former snarling nastily back.

Vos kicked slightly as he was wrapped up in the blanket and cradled against the aerial's frame. He didn't like it at all, but he had no choice. It hurt to be held and he made that known, whining and trying to shift so it didn't hurt as much.

"Careful with him, Misfire! He's fragile when recovering!" Pharma said, ushering Misfire towards the door. "Get him home right away and offer some energon. He needs it."

Misfire nodded, taking a look at Vos and seeing he really shouldn't hesitate to bring him back home. He trotted outside into the street and rushed back to the shared house, Vos hissing and spitting like an angry mechanimal feline the whole way back.

"Here we are! How do you like it?" Misfire asked, padding inside and heading to his room on the top floor. Vos said nothing. "Awww, don't be shy!"

Vos was glad when he was set down on a soft berth after being jostled around so much on the way there. He nestled into the covers and relaxed as best he could. He was a slave, a pet for this Scavenger, but at least he wasn't trying to force him to couple. Not yet, anyways.

"Got you some energon and some treats!" Misfire said cheerfully, bringing over two silver mechanimal bowls. One contained liquid energon and the other gelled energon cubes. They reminded Vos of mechanimal kibble and he groaned silently. This was going to be so humiliating!

Hunger won him over and he reluctantly pulled back his face mask to reveal his mouth. No one outside the DJD had ever seen it. Misfire said nothing for once and just watched as Vos carefully drank from the bowl with the liquid energon in it and then tasted some of the gelled cubes. The way he took them between smooth dentas and politely ate was fascinating to the flier.

"You're gorgeous." Misfire praised, reaching out and petting Vos's helm like a mechanimal. That didn't go over well, the mech having to retract his hand before it was bitten by the irate Decepticon. "Okay, okay, I won't touch you when you're refueling, I get it."

Vos hid a smirk as he snapped up some more of the gelled energon, glad the mech had some respect for him. Those who didn't never lasted very long. Even with the slave collar around his neck, Vos was still dangerous and would prove it should he need to.

***

Tarn was miserable when he woke up in a room foreign to him. It wasn't a bad place, really, just upsetting because he knew what it was. It would become his new, larger cage and the bot who supposedly owned him would be free to do as he liked. The thought disgusted him, the massive tank shuddering when he thought about his bleak future.

He raised a hand and touched the somewhat sore area on his neck and wanted to cry, his special vocalizer chip removed for sure. The canon on his back wouldn't respond to any commands either, the weapon nullified as Krok had demanded it to be. Covering his faceplate with his hands, the mech curled up tighter into the berth covers and made a soft whimper.

'So much for being a leader, Tarn. You failed your hunters and now everyone is in this mess because of you and your lack of planning for an attack.' he thought, not noticing when the door to the room opened.

"Tarn, sit up. I brought you energon."

Tarn jumped slightly on the berth and looked over to see it was his "master," one of the bots that had once been on the List. He said nothing when the energon was placed on the berth beside him, not making any moves towards it. Krok seemed somewhat annoyed with that, but also stayed silent.

"I'm surprised you didn't put it in a mechanimal dish for me. No need to hide what I am, Krok." Tarn growled, wishing so badly he could have his vocalizer back. He wanted to watch that bot suffer as his spark exploded and destroyed him.

"You are not a pet. That's ridiculous." Krok snorted, crossing his arms over his chest plates.

"Then why am I here, Krok?"

"You're here as a...guest of sorts. Just be glad I didn't sell you off to some bot who'd really damage you."

"I have already been damaged!" Tarn snarled, rising up off the berth and looming over the other mech. The collar around his neck buzzed with a warning to him. He'd regret it if he attempted to harm his owner. Krok stood back and let the tank decide what he wanted to do, the black and purple bot finally standing down after some thought.

"Drink your energon." the former Scavenger said dismissively.

Tarn glowered and left it right where it was. No one told him what to do save for Megatron. Orders from any other would be readily discarded. If it meant he had to starve to death, so be it. With an unhappy huff, the huge mech rolled over and turned his back on Krok, ignoring the energon entirely. He wished he could drink it, but his pride was too great to take orders from an Autobot and a traitor.

Krok sat down at his desk and vented softly, resting his head in his hand for a moment. Tarn was not going to be easy to take care of since he simply would not allow it. But with time the mech would get used to things and perhaps be a companion of sorts. He was intelligent and could talk about things he had read and what he was interested in, so it could actually work out if he allowed it to.

'Emphasis on "if."' Krok thought, optics dulled with fatigue as he got to work on updating his financial files after the visit to med bay.

***

Fulcrum tried all the ways he knew to get Helex to respond to him, but the big mech wouldn't do it. He lay dejectedly on the floor of the room like a massive mechanimal pet. A very depressed one, of course. There was no hint of happiness or interest in him, the bot ignoring his fuel completely and hardly responding when he was called.

"Helex...come on, can't we talk a little about this? I know you hate everything and you're angry with the world but I want to make things good for you! I ordered a larger berth and it should come in a solar cycle or two! And then I got you all sorts of different fuel and treats since you don't seem to be hungry at all."

"Why would I be interested in food?! You are truly a fool to think I would take anything from you! I'd take death far more willingly than an energon treat from your palm like the beast you expect me to be!" Helex snarled, although he didn't rise from his place on the floor.

"No! That's not what I want at all! I want you to see things can be better! I'm not out to hurt you at all!" Fulcrum exclaimed, hands up in defense. "Other bots might agree with that but the war is over and no one should be a slave...so if there have to be slaves or pets or whatever you want to call them, I want the bot I can save from a worse fate to be comfortable and happy."

"Touching." Helex growled, standing up with some loud creaks and a few snaps like an organic with cracking joints. "But I don't buy it."

"It's not a lie!"

"Save it for someone who will listen, bot."

Helex curled up on the berth after a few moments and said nothing more, venting quiet as he settled down for more rest. He was running on dangerously low fuel reserves and he was finished with talking. It wasn't worth the breath. Fulcrum looked upset, the mech really not of cold spark or malicious intentions, but still not one Helex wanted to get involved in.

"Can you please eat something? You can hardly survive with such low fuel." Fulcrum said gently, holding out a high quality grade cube to the bot. "Please?"

Helex looked away and would have none of it, fiery optics narrowing. To accept something from that bot was not going to be easy and he was determined to refuse the offerings, turning his head away and saying nothing. It was probably cruel to that bot, but he was no stranger to hurting others.

"Maybe later, then." Fulcrum tried weakly, deep down feeling that he might not be able to save Helex. After all, how could a bot help another who didn't want to be saved?


	5. Chapter 5

Spinister was a determined creature and refused to allow Kaon to ignore him, careful as could be as he worked around the mech and started getting him more situated in his new home. Despite being blind, Kaon learned quickly and soon knew where most things were around the room. One had to adapt when they had such a crippling disability.

"Come." Spinister called when he entered, carrying some regular energon cubes and a tin of special treats. They were the crunchy kind with mercury filling and thallium slivers on the outside, a nice truffle-like candy for them to share. He'd stollen them from Fulcrum, but he didn't need to know that.

Kaon vented softly and came when called, locating the direction the voice had come from and padding over. He flinched when he felt his helm being pet like a mechanimal and grumbled under his breath. This was so demeaning! But he had to admit it wasn't really bad. Running and hiding away in the cyber forest had been much harder than this new life. This was easy and relaxing, the mech having been able to get a good lunar cycle's rest for once in a very long time.

"Have some fuel and then we can talk."

"Talk about what?" Kaon asked, sitting down on the berth after he was guided slightly by the aerial.

"Things. Like poetry we read and battles." Spinister answered simply, shrugging his shoulders despite the fact the other mech wouldn't ever see it. That got a soft chuckle from the red and yellow bot.

"Those don't really go together, Spinister."

"Oh, but they DO! I will teach you about it."

"Go right ahead."

Spinister started right in about how battle was much like a poem. It was glorious as well as sorrowful, often ending abruptly or without a clear meaning. Kaon listened, intrigued by the connections the helicopter mech was making and nodding as he listened further. Spinister was a little...odd, but he wasn't an evil bot at all. He really just wanted someone to talk to and be a friend of sorts.

Before Kaon could remind himself he was chatting with the enemy, he was deep in the conversation. They had moved on to favorite poems and authors as well as music tastes. Kaon could almost say it was fun to have a bot like that around. His hunting brothers of the DJD had been fine, but only Tarn was really intelligent. Tesarus and Helex were the brute force and Vos...well, he was the strangest of them all.

Kaon jerked back when he felt Spinister's hand touch the side of his cheek, the gesture not an aggressive one but still startling. Physical contact had never really been a part of Kaon's life cycle until now. Spinister clicked his rotor blades, cocking his head to one side as he examined the empty optical sockets Kaon sported.

"I want to fix it for you."

"No. I'm perfectly fine."

Spinister tipped Kaon's chin up and turned his head to the right to see deeper into the space for the optics. He warned to check if there was hope of repair.

"But you can't see." Spinister pointed out simply, the lack of sight not defined as "fine," in his book.

"Look, I like things the way they are. I don't need or want to change." Kaon vented, waving Spinister off and pulling his head away. "Stop..."

"Will you try?"

"Try what?"

"Try to let someone help you?" Spinister asked, feeling he understood some of Kaon now. The mech was damaged inside as well as outside.

Kaon said nothing, glad for once that he had no optics. If he had there would have been washer fluid welling up in them and that was simply not acceptable for a Decepticon.

***

Tesarus was aloof on a good day when he was with the DJD, but now that he belonged to a mech he had instantly decided he hated, the grinder was absolutely horrible. He didn't try fighting again thanks to the looming shock of the collar, but he did verbally battle Crankcase at every turn. Neither won much ground, but they whittled away at each other's patience to see who would break first.

"Are you going to stop thrashing so I can unhook you from the wall?" Crankcase asked crisply as he stood there over the grinder. Tesarus was still attached to the wall and was currently yanking against the leash and restraints on his wrists.

"I'm going to make you pretty little helm look the same on both sides before I rip out your processor." Tesarus hissed in reply, twisting around again to try and break free. Crankcase snorted.

"I've heard better than that. Now be still and let me get you out of that."

Tesarus finally did settle down enough for Crankcase to remove the stasis cuffs from his wrists and the leash from the collar. The large mech vented with relief when he found himself free to move around again. He was terribly stiff from spending the lunar cycle and most of the next solar cycle tied up on his side with no way to make himself comfortable.

"Now you need fuel. You haven't eaten a damned thing after you got caught."

"Are you going to give it to me?" Tesarus demanded waiting expectantly for the fuel to be offered up. Crankcase held back, an energon cube in his hands. Since he needed to go off of what the manual said for training these stupid Decepticons, he had to make this work as an exercise of his control and dominance.

"You have to ask your master for it."

"No fragging way. Get out of here." Tesarus spat, standing up stiffly and brushing himself off. "I'm not begging for my fuel like some kind of starving mechanimal."

"You will submit to me entirely, so you might as well get started now."

"Never. I'll be dead before I obey the likes of you, traitor turned Autobot!"

That made Crankcase angry. His optics flared behind his visor and the mech grabbed the shocking ship from his subspace. He jammed his thumb down on the blue button and was rewarded and with a scream from Tesarus, the collar sending jolts of electricity through his frame and putting him right to the floor.

Crankcase was on him before the former DJD member could think, the mech getting rolled over and pinned so that Crankcase was now sitting on his lower back. Stasis cuffs went on again after Tesarus's hands were moved over his head. He'd be able to support himself on hands and knees but not get away or make much of a fight.

"You asked for this! I'll make sure you never forget who owns you! Flywheels is going to be avenged, you little slag!" Crankcase hissed, hand going between Tesarus's powerful legs to grab at his valve cover. Tesarus let out a terrified yelp amidst his screams and thrashed around.

"N-No!" he howled, another pain shooting through him as the cover was ripped off in one clean yank.

Crankcase wasn't going to take no for an answer as he released his own spike. It wasn't the biggest out there since he wasn't a massive frame type, but it would certainly be enough for Tesarus to feel something was going on down there. The grinder might be big but he wasn't the size of a shuttle.

Tesarus continued to struggle and shout, the shocks wearing off and now only the sting of a ruined valve cover greeting him. Crankcase manhandled the bot into the floor and kept him there while he positioned himself. His sharp tipped spike was weeping fluid already with anticipation, the mech not having had a lot of interfacing since the Scavenger team had been converted over to the Autobot side.

"Stay down!"

"No! Fragging Pit, stop! Please! I'll listen, I'll listen!" Tesarus screamed, absolutely miserable. He tensed up when he felt the tip of the spike press between his light orange valve folds and spread them. He was lubricating but not a huge deal thanks to his seal.

He knew this was going to hurt. It was one of the many reasons he still had the valve seal. It was weakness to submit to another and let them take it since he was such a formidable opponent as well as disgusting to the optics of his team members. There was a sense of pride about the valve seal and he knew he was going to lose it to a bot he loathed now. And for what reason?! Just a show to make him give in and break in more ways than one.

"Crankcase! Flywheels was just a part of the List! I was doing my job! Following orders from Tarn! It's him you should punish!" Tesarus tried, willing to say anything to get Crankcase to stop before it truly started.

"I don't have Tarn, so you're the next best thing. You tore off his legs, didn't you?! You'll suffer, too!"

With that Crankcase shoved his pulsing spike into the valve and forced it inside, gritting his dentas when he found hardly any lubricant there. It was so tight as well. And then he felt the head of his spike press against a rubber seal within, his spike about a fourth of the way inside.

"So this is what you were afraid of, huh?"

"Crankcase...please..." Tesarus begged, not caring that he was whimpering and pleading to the enemy. Anything to make him stop he would try.

"Just hold still and I'll finish it off for you. And then you'll always know who took your seal and made you his glitch."

Crankcase thrust hard into the seal and tore through it with a dull snap, Tesarus roaring his pain and quivering with the aftershocks of hurt. He tried to claw his way out from under the other mech, but found he was trapped and forced to endure the punishment.

Crankcase didn't much care if Tesarus was miserable, honestly wanting the bot to suffer. Flywheels had been tortured to death, so he would avenge him as best he could. It wasn't the same, but it took a good stab at the DJD member's pride. If he could knock him down a few notches, things might be more equalized for what had happened.

"Shut up and take it!" Crankcase snarled, slamming his hips into Tesarus's and trying to muffle the other mech's cries by shoving his fingers into his mouth. Tesarus gagged and tried to roll away in a lame attempt to dislocate from the one forcing the coupling.

Crankcase made sure there was no chance for escape and continued to pound the tight virgin valve until he was good and ready to finish. He made a short grunt as his lower middle tightened and suddenly released a gush of silvery clear transfluid into Tesarus's abused folds, ripping away before his spike tied them together. He had no interest in being attached to a bot like that.

Tesarus howled and groaned, rolling over and crossing his legs as transfluid and energon from the ripped seal dribbled out onto the floor. He didn't try to get up, instead laying still and sobbing softly. Crankcase wiped his swollen spike off of fluids and smirked. Good. His work there was done and he could tell the mech was entirely out of commission now.

"You're mine to do with as I please. You belong to be and I won't have you thinking you're anything special. You're my glitch and I want obedience."

Tesarus said nothing, but he knew there would be little fight left in him after that, at least for a while. It would take a long time to recover from his wounds and he was sure Crankcase wanted them open and raw to ensure control. It didn't even bother the former member of the DJD. Whatever happened from there on out would depend on how merciful Crankcase felt and the odds of him ever showing mercy were slim at best.


	6. Chapter 6

Helex was starving to death and Fulcrum had to do something to stop it. He'd tried coaxing the smelter into eating, tempting him with all sorts of treats and fancy energon, but he wouldn't take it. The mech seemed intent on finishing himself off. It made the former Scavenger sorrowful, wondering what more he could do to convince Helex it was worth sticking around for.

"You know I don't hate you. I want you to be happy. I know it's a lot to ask since you are captured, but can't you try?" Fulcrum asked, approaching the berth where Helex's massive frame lay. Helex didn't even bother to growl at him, optics dull as he glanced over at the bot.

"Not...submitting. To anyone." Helex hissed, snuggling back into the blankets and ignoring the other bot.

Fulcrum vented softly, taking an energon truffle filled with mercury and came closer, nervous but not feeling like Helex was going to whip around and attack. The bot was too weak for that and he wouldn't risk the shock from the collar in his current state. Keeping the candy in the palm of his hand, Fulcrum came up to the berth and offered the sweet smelling food to the starving smelter.

He stood still and watched for what might happen. Helex was staring at the the truffle with obvious longing. He wanted to eat, but right then he had to decide between his freedom or his life. What would he rather keep? Fulcrum saw the thought process going on, those molten optics flicking from the treat up to his 'master.'

'What do I have to lose? All the others are in the same position and I won't be seen as weak...I might as well live to fight another solar cycle.' Helex decided, propping himself up and taking the truffle between his denta plates as gently as possible so he didn't scare the bot that had every weapon he needed to harm him.

He rumbled happily when he bit into the candy, his systems glad for fuel of any kind. Helex looked to Fulcrum for more, licking his lips but saying nothing. Fulcrum brightened, a smile spreading across his faceplate as he turned and grabbed some gelled energon cubes full of nutrients. He'd been hoping he could coax Helex into refueling and now he might have made a breakthrough.

"So you'll give me a try?" Fulcrum asked, placing a dish right on the berth where Helex didn't even have to move much to eat it.

"We'll see." Helex said simply, quiet once his mouth was full of tiny energon cubes that looked like mechanimal kibble. He didn't care a bit, just looking to get his tanks replenished.

Fulcrum reached out and touched Helex's helm, flinching when he saw the mech give him a murderous look. It might be too soon to attempt that kind of connection, but Fulcrum wanted to try. There was nothing about Helex he really hated. He was a bot who could forgive and forget, so the war and what the DJD had done were long behind them.

"Just...trust me?"

Helex growled deeply but returned to swallowing his fuel, much like the beast he never wanted to become.

Fulcrum took that as a favorable sign and rubbed the golden-tan 'horns' on the sides of Helex's helm. They reminded him a lot of what Sideswipe had, but a thinner. The larger mech didn't seem to mind that, another handsome rumble coming from him. They were finally making some progress! Fulcrum was glad something in Helex had changed (but hopefully not broken), that made him more willing to try.

"I promise we'll make the best of it. You'll see. And who knows, maybe there will be a revolution and you'll be freed! We can't cross that out." he offered, Helex swallowing a mouthful of the gelled energon without bothering to chew it at all and nodding a tiny bit.

'A breakthrough, indeed.' Fulcrum thought, continuing to pet the smelter's helm as he waited for him to finish refueling. They had a lot of things to talk about.

***

Vos hissed and swatted at Misfire, the mech intent on picking him up. Being a small model, it was not hard for the aerial to do so once he was caught, but right then Vos had no intentions of behaving or being a nice 'pet.' Misfire was treating him well, but he was NOT a pet. He'd play that game only when he wanted to. He couldn't refuse because he didn't speak the same language (even though he easily understood it), so he was happy to let his actions speak for him.

"Hey, hey! Quit it, you little slag!" Misfire snapped when Vos slipped out of his hold and went dashing over to the berth. He wriggled under it and curled up there, hoping he would be left alone. Misfire had a poor attention span.

"No! Get out from under there!" the aerial demanded kneeling down and trying to grab the smaller mech. He got clawed at and even bitten, swearing but keeping his hold on the bot until he was pulled out from his hiding spot. "Stop acting up. I don't want a lame pet."

Vos hissed at that and said something nasty under his breath in Primal Vernacular that Misfire ignored, forcing Vos to be still as he held him to his chassis. The gun former wasn't that tiny, but Misfire managed to manhandle him easily.

"Don't you want to have some fun?" Misfire asked sweetly, petting the nape of Vos's neck. The bot pretended to hate the touches and attempted to bite again. "Vos, you pretty thing, just let me show you all the things we can do!"

Vos growled but stopped fighting as he was carried over to the berth and set in Misfire's lap, the goofy bot smiling at him. Red optics met newly changed blue ones as Vos tried to read them. There was no malice there, just excitement and hope that he'd play along. Fine. He just might if he liked the game.

"Okay! Looks like you aren't going to be a loser, so I can wash and polish you up to get you looking great!" Misfire said, picking Vos up again and heading to the wash rack joined to the room.

Vos found himself being lowered into a heated oil bath, hands curling around Misfire's upper arms with some fear. He didn't quite trust him and imagined all sorts of things that could happen if Misfire chose to kill him in the berthroom. He could drown, be bled to death, strangulation...

Misfire kept his hands under Vos's arms as a sign he wasn't going to drop him, carefully starting to wash him off. The oil slowly turned a light gray, all sorts of grit and metal dust coming out of seams and off of plating. The DJD had been living out in the wilderness for quite some time and probably had collected a lot of dirt there.

"You have to admit this feels better." Misfire said, Vos finally having let his arms go so he could sit in the bath and enjoy it.

Vos made a soft hiss when his chin was taken and pulled closer, Misfire starting to work a damp but warm mesh cloth over his faceplate. More metal dust came off and Vos relaxed, even pulling back his face mask so Misfire could clean there, too. The aerial grinned, pleased with himself that he'd managed to get Vos this trusting in so little time.

'I wonder how Pinhead is doing...' he thought, imagining a larger type bot would be more difficult to handle than one like Vos

***

Tarn was miserable. His vocalizer was ruined, his power was taken from him, and he had no reason to live as far as he could tell. He had been reduced from a respected and feared to a pet. A stupid pet. It made his energon boil just thinking that was going to be his fate.

"Tarn." Krok said firmly, having noticed the mech's steady decline through the few solar cycles he had kept him. "We need to speak with one another about your current condition and how you wish to go about fixing it. While others might try to treat you as a beast, I know you are an intelligent bot. Do not make me think otherwise or I will start to see you as a pet." Krok said firmly, laying down the lay as always. He was a natural commander, not the king of mech to sit back and leave things unfinished.

"Then if you want to talk, I shall talk." Tarn answered, although his tone was flat and sounding quite defeated. Why did he care what happened anymore?! He had nothing to fight for, nothing he cared about. As far as he knew his soldiers were condemned to a worse fate and weren't worth being aggressive over.

"You haven't had any energon for the past couple of solar cycles. Do you intend to starve yourself?"

"I will if things come to that. I merely want to be treated as a mech, not as a mechanimal. My loyalty remains to myself and my soldiers, never to you, traitor." Tarn hissed, optics narrowing. Without the mask he was easily read, but he didn't much care. Krok could stare at him all he liked.

"I am treating you as a mech right now and am asking you to refuel for your own good. I don't want you to starve, Tarn. You're too smart for that." Krok replied, taking a cube and offering it to the mech. "It's safe, I promise."

"And how much can I trust your word?"

"Entirely." Krok answered firmly, seeing a small flicker of who Tarn really was behind those blazing red optics. It was a good sign, a reminder this mech could be intelligent, quick, and dangerous, all things he should never forget. Even with a slave collar on Tarn could still inflict considerable damage.

Tarn took the energon cube and finally started to refuel, Krok watching to make sure he actually swallowed and wasn't just faking to be left alone. He truly did want Tarn to be healthy and someday even happy. They had kept the members of the DJD close because they felt they had a chance to be something better. After all, being forced into working for Megatron after alterations from Shockwave, bots wouldn't be given much of a chance to be themselves.

"Then we may talk." Tarn said simply, crimson optics sparkling with newfound intrigue with Krok. Perhaps he could offer something of worth and be a fine companion. He had nothing to lose in trying now, his pride long dead.

And at that moment Tarn finally met his turning point.


	7. Chapter 7

Tesarus lived in fear of Crankcase now. Every time the mech came into the room he would shy away and cower, wary he would attack as he had before. Thankfully there were no more rapes or any mention of it, Crankcase simply pretending it had never happened. But Tesarus wouldn't forget.

Crankcase entered the room of the large apartment building and frowned when Tesarus did it again. He moved from the couch he had been cuddled up on and scurried as best a large type mech could into the wash racks to hide. The grinder often wouldn't emerge until Crankcase pretended to leave or actually did so, the bot so deeply scarred he refused to be in contact with Crankcase at all.

'Little scrap of a thing! Why couldn't he have just listened the first time I told him to?!'

Tesarus huddled in the wash rack, back pressed to the wall as he tried to think about what he could do. His weapons were all taken away and his strength meant nothing when Crankcase could simply shock him and put an end to any revolt. He was trapped and vulnerable, the reality of his situation making him choke up in a sob.

The mech slumped down onto the floor of the wash rack tub and started up the terrible habit he had acquired since the rape. Tesarus insisted on pulling off armor plates until he was raw and exposed. Crankcase took him to the medics only once and they hadn't done anything to help other than put the armor back on. Groaning quietly at the thought of being taken back there and ignored, Tesarus tore off four pieces of side armor, the obsessive disorder somehow calming to him.

Crankcase heard the sound of metal and knew what was going on. Tesarus was doing it again. He scowled and went dashing to the wash rack and overriding the lock code. He pushed open the door to find a massive mech bleeding into the empty tub, ripped off armor plates stacked in a pile in front of him. Tesarus shied away from the intruder, but kept his head and eyes low.

"What are you doing?!"

Tesarus said nothing, simply keeping his attention on his bloodied hands. Crankcase swore and grabbed the mech by his collar, the former Decepticon snarling in surprise at being grabbed. He yanked back but Crankcase held him fast like a naughty mechanimal.

"We're going back to Pharma and you're getting repaired! I don't know what is wrong with you, but I'm damn sick of it," Crankcase spat, using brute force to move the larger mech out of the wash rack and towards their apartment ground bridge.

Pharma glanced over his shoulder when he heard a crash at the ground bridge and spotted Tesarus, one of the former DJD members. The mech leapt up from where he had been shoved and pressed himself into a corner of the room, x shaped optics bright with terror. The mech was an absolute wreck and Pharma was going to have to get to the bottom of it.

"Crankcase, what is wrong with him?"

"How would I know?! He's been ripping off his own plating recently and I caught him in the act today. Now I brought him here for you to figure it out!", the gruff mech said, arms folding over his chest plates as he spoke. Tesarus looked at his pedes, saying nothing.

"Alright, Tesarus. Come over here and let me give you a scan. Crankcase, do you have the armor plates he tore off?"

"I have them in my subspace. Just scan him and I'll leave them on a table or something."

Tesarus had already moved himself to one of the medical cots and sat down, not making optic contact with any of the bots there. Crankcase huffed angrily and started throwing the pieces of armor plating on a rolling table empty of medical supplies a nurse brought over. Pharma was already at Tesarus's side, scanning him with a handheld screening test.

"There seems to be some damage on him other than the self inflicted wounds. Have you two been roughly interfacing? Because his array is torn and obviously hasn't been taken care of properly," Pharma snapped, turning angrily on Crankcase.

He moved his attention back to Tesarus when he heard a soft choking sound, the Decepticon that had been feared and known for viciousness cowered with crossed legs at the mention of interfacing. Pharma had seen other bots like him come in and could easily guess what happened. Just like some of the others, Tesarus had been abused.

"You RAPED him, didn't you?!", Pharma spat, whipping around and hitting Crankcase with the scanner he held. The bot who was already missing a part of his helm made a yelp and backed up, hands over his face for protection at the sudden rage from the medic.

"So what? He deserved it for what he and his little crew did to Flywheels!"

"That is no excuse! I want you to know you're the cause of his depression! Yes, the ripping off of armor plates is an obsessive compulsive disorder he has come up with to keep focused on that pain, not the one you caused for him. You broke his seals and didn't do a thing to properly care for him after! He's damaged mentally even worse!", Pharma yelled, the nurses and few medical drones dashing out of the main room before they got caught up in the argument somehow.

Crankcase scowled at Pharma, not about to take that from him. "I did not cause his terrible behavior! Besides, I brought him here to be fixed, didn't I?! You can do that and I can take him back."

"I have half a mind not to give him back to you! You don't know how to care for a bot, much less one you have wounded forever! Do you know how long it takes bots to recover from rapes?", Pharma snapped, reaching up and petting Tesarus's shoulder. The mech pulled away, but he didn't try that hard and the medic's hand followed, soon ending up on his frame again.

"You dare steal my pet and I'll call the police!"

"I am higher ranked than a fragging police mech! If I say you can't have him back, he can be lawfully seized by myself, such as an abused mechanimal can be by the humane society!"

Crankcase was fuming now, seeing that his fun punching bag was about to be taken away. He stalked over to the grinder and glared at him. Tesarus wouldn't meet his optics, keeping his gaze lowered.

"Tell him it was consensual, you little frag-bot! Tell him and I'll make sure you're taken better care of."

Tesarus reached up and touched his collar, at last meeting Crankcase's optics. He didn't look away this time, focusing on him with a new ferocity. Pharma stood back and let the two sort things out, although he was ready to leap in and stop a fight if it happened.

"It was a rape and you know it. I begged you for mercy and you never gave it. If you were a Decepticon, even you would have stopped," Tesarus whispered, voice hoarse as he hadn't used it in a few solar cycles.

Crankcase balled his hand into a fist and appeared ready to strike when Pharma grabbed him and held his hand back. His blue optics said everything and Crankcase swore, shaking his hand away and turning his back on the medic and his patient.

"When I come back I expect him fixed."

"It will be a deca cycle. When you come back I will decide whether or not I want you to leave with Tesarus. Until then, clean up your act," Pharma said firmly, watching as Crankcase went stomping back through the med bay ground bridge.

"Thank you...", Tesarus groaned, leaning back and shutting off his optics. "I never thought I would be free of him."

"Let's get you cleaned up and put your armor back on. Don't thank me yet, though. I haven't repaired you," Pharma said gently, working on the open patches where plating had been torn away. The valve would need to wait until the bot was unconscious.

***

Spinister was having the best luck with his 'pet' compared to the others. He adored Kaon like nothing else, constantly pampering him. The former Decepticon had all the audio data pads he could want and any other item he asked for. It make Spinister happy to bring a smile out on Kaon's faceplate, the sight not as rare anymore.

"Kaon, I brought you a word puzzle," Spinister said, sitting down beside the mech as he stared out the large window of the apartment with unseeing optics. Kaon had taken a liking to the comfy window seat.

"Thank you, Spinister. Mind reading it to me? I assume you will want to help me figure it out anyways. I would hate to leave you out!", Kaon said warmly, surprised to find he was leaning against Spinister's shoulder as he talked.

"I like to play these games. Nothing moves so there is nothing to shoot," Spinister agreed, nuzzling his pet's cheek. "And when we are done we can fix your optics."

"Spinister, I already told you I don't want them fix-"

"The name of the Crystal City's park, seven across," Spinister said, interrupting and paying no mind to Kaon's disapproval of the optic repair idea.

"Hmm...I never visited there and the one time I got close it was just for a job. Do you have any idea?"

"Nope! Let's move on."

Kaon winced as the found of a gun went off right beside him, something inside their apartment shattering. It was most likely a flickering lamp. Spinister tended to annihilate those when the bulbs got dull. The strange helicopter went right back to the crossword puzzle as if nothing had happened. He was rich enough to buy a great deal of lamps, so it most likely didn't concern him too much.

Kaon said nothing more about his optics. It was a topic he preferred to ignore, but for some reason Spinister was insisting they repair him. The bot might have been a field medic at one point, but Kaon felt no real need to have his optics taken care of. Not seeing was...well, it wasn't as bad as bots thought. He had never seen anything, so he had lost nothing. His world was just find with his other senses.

'But maybe I am missing out. Maybe I should just let him help me like he wants to...', he thought, arms wrapping around Spinister's neck suddenly. The skittish bot made a soft grunt and hugged back almost instantly, pulling Kaon into his lap.

"Spinister, I think I do want my optics to be fixed...if you know someone really good who can do it for me."

"Of course I know someone! I can do it! I was an optic and facial specialist before the war came," Spinister said, rubbing Kaon's helm with one hand while he beamed. Kaon couldn't see the expression, but the feeling of love and warmth radiating off the helicopter mech was easy to read.

"When do you want to do it?", Kaon asked, tracing the outlines of Spinister's faceplate. He could imagine the mech in his mind's eye, watching his features come to life.

"As soon as possible!"

"I am ready when you are," Kaon heard himself say, his spark aching to finally see who his savior was. Unlike many, Kaon didn't feel captured. He felt cared for, wanted, and loved at last.


	8. Chapter 8

Helex still didn't like Fulcrum even after they had gone through some trust exercises. He was fueling and accepting the food he was given readily enough, but he remained surly and unresponsive to most of Fulcrum's attempt to make a relationship. He showed his dentas at the smaller bot when he was approached, pulling away and attempting to curl himself up in a corner beside his berth.

"Helex, we should give you a bath. You probably have a lot of grit and uncomfortable stuff under all that armor plating. Let's get you feeling even better!"

"I'm not taking a fragging bath. Go away." 

"Come on, it won't hurt you! It's going to put you in a better mood for sure!" Fulcrum insisted, venting deeply when he saw the stubborn expression on Helex's faceplate. It would be a struggle to get him into the wash racks, but they were going whether he wanted to or not.

"I said I don't want to go. Back off."

Fulcrum walked over so he was standing over the massive frame of the smelter, Helex growling softly when he saw he was the submissive in that situation. For a moment the two stared each other down, waiting for the other to break. Finally Helex gave in when he saw Fulcrum take out the remote for the damned shock collar. He scratched said collar like a bad mechanimal, getting a small jolt for his bad behavior. He growled deeply, hating every click of his existence.

"Fine, you stupid Autobot traitor. But I clean myself. I won't have you touching me anywhere."  
Fulcrum frowned, wishing he hadn't had to resort to the remote. He loathed the shock collars like nothing else and hated to use it against the large mech. It was a necessary item for a bot who was so aggressive, but he still didn't like the idea of such a powerful weapon.

Helex gave Fulcrum a death glare as he stood and stiffly lumbered towards the wash rack the apartment shared. No one else was using it and it smelled nice enough, like high quality cleanser, so he supposed he could pamper himself with a good wash.

"Do you want me to turn on the-"

"No." 

Helex fumbled to get the oil running, but once he got it to fill the huge tub he was pleased. Hopefully the little traitor would leave him in peace for his bathing, but he didn't expect it. Fulcrum was weirdly determined to make them best friends. Rumbling with annoyance, the big mech clambered into the bathtub and held back a purr as hot oil began washing over his seams.

Fulcrum did stand back and tried to give the other mech some room, but when he noticed Helex having some trouble reaching all the spots on his back, he decided to step in. Vos and Misfire had become closer after Misfire helped Vos bathe, so maybe the same would apply for Helex.

"Let me help you."

Helex snarled at him but didn't retaliate, feeling the collar start to buzz in anticipation of shocking him. So he stayed still and let the disgusting Autobot touch him despite his earlier threats, trying to ignore how nice it actually felt to be taken care of.

He made a soft hiss when Fulcrum began to find areas that hurt on his frame. His back plating had hidden many old wounds, many of which were rusting and hurt quite a bit. The smelter nipped at Fulcrum's wrist as a warning when the smaller mech found a shard of metal surrounded by corrosion under one of his lower back plates.

"Helex, how can you sleep or feel good at all with this damage? Why did you never say anything?" Fulcrum asked in horror, quickly going to get medical supplies to clean the wounds and remove any shrapnel that had gotten inside them.

"I don't feel it. You're weak if something like this bothers you." 

Helex growled and did his best to make Fulcrum's job difficult as the mech attempted to remove the metal shards and rock pieces from festering wounds. The cleaning solution that destroyed the rust infections burned and the smelter made it quite clear that he disliked the way it felt. Fulcrum winced but continued to repair the minor hurts and aches of the large model.

'See? I'm making you feel better,' he thought, gently rubbing the back of Helex's neck. The smelter lowered his helm after a few moments in submission, letting the treatment continue without any more fussing.  
"Looks like I found all of it. Do you feel any different?"

"Feels...fine," Helex answered gruffly, refusing to say that he actually felt one hundred percent better now.

He got out of the tub and took two drying cloths to get the oil off of his frame, glad when he was dry and warm. Now he had to hand it to Fulcrum. The bot did know how to make someone comfortable and prove he wasn't as bad as once imagined to be. 

'Little fragger...he's trying to get me to like him and it's working. Take me to Pit, I'm falling for all this scrap,' Helex realized, rubbing the side of his helm. 

He didn't even feel bad about it half the time. He knew Vos had gone to the dark side with Misfire and that Kaon was quite cuddly with Spinister. How that happened he would never fully know, but he did see that some of the other DJD had given in and were allowing the Scavengers to care for them. Tesarus had been badly abused and Tarn was hardly ever seen, so it was hard to know what his standing was. 

'I want to live to fight again, so perhaps I should do as many of the others have and...and give in. I hate to play the role of a weak, submissive fool, but this is all I can do now.'

Helex returned to the room he was held captive in, the big mech looking at the large but single berth. Fulcrum had never slept with him for fear of angering the former Decepticon and Helex had never wanted to be within reach of a traitor. But perhaps for that lunar cycle he could try something new.  
"Get in the berth. We're...sharing tonight."

Fulcrum gawked at him. "We're WHAT?!"

"You heard me. Sharing. We're sharing a fragging berth. You want me to be a pet, so curl up with me if you dare."

Helex got into the berth and settled down, leaving ample room for the other bot to join him. For only a moment Fulcrum thought about the offer. Was Helex out to kill him? Likely he was, but there was nothing he could do right then to accomplish murder. So he padded over and rolled into the bed with the massive, four armed frame of his former hunter.

"You're running rather hot. Are you okay?" Fulcrum asked, feeling the raw heat that rolled off of the other mech's body. Helex snorted in what almost sounded like laughter. 

"I'm a smelter. I'm supposed to be hot as Pit."

Fulcrum snickered softly at that and leaned back against Helex so they were spooning, determined to show that they could be close and not cause each other harm. Helex tensed for only a moment before he wrapped two sets of arms around the smaller bot and held him in a surprisingly pleasant embrace.

"Helex, I know you aren't a bad mech. I'm going to get the collar off you and I'm going to make sure you go free. Just give it some time, but I promise I'll do it for you."

"Forget it, Fulcrum," Helex sighed, tucking his head into some mesh pillows. "I know my place now."

***

Tesarus was grateful for the cage he was put in during recovery as it kept everyone away from him. The grinder quietly rested, his X shaped optics carefully scanning the med bay for anyone who he saw as a threat. Only Pharma was allowed to go near him, the senior medic understanding what had happened to the once strong warrior.

"Tesarus, how are you feeling today?"

"Better," Tesarus replied, glad he didn't need to tack on a 'master' to the end of everything he said while in med bay. Pharma seemed pleased with that, but the smile faded slightly.

"Bad news, though. Crankcase is-"

The door to the recovery wing swung open and as if called, Crankcase strode inside. Tesarus recoiled and pressed himself against the back of his cell, visibly cowering in the presence of the other mech. Pharma was about to snarl for the bot to get out, but it was too late. The damage had been done and the grinder was mortified at the sight of his abuser.

"I'm here to take my pet back."

"He isn't recovered yet! You can't have him."

"Listen, I'm here to apologize for my behavior with him and then I'm taking him back home. He belongs to me."

Pharma glared daggers as Crankcase said his apologies and opened the cell. Tesarus refused to budge, the huge bot covering his optics slightly with his hands. Crankcase swore softly and took a step back. He had done an amazing job of reducing a DJD member into a pile of melted scrap, but now he couldn't even get through to the other bot. Tesarus was so scared he wouldn't even move.

"Alright, that's enough. Let's go home."

Tesarus whined quietly like a kicked mechanimal, still cowering in fear.

"You have done more damage to him than can be repaired, Crankcase. Good luck to you on ever regaining his trust-or mine for that matter. I've sent a complaint to the industry and they will no longer allow you to purchase any more pets without my prior consent. I couldn't take Tesarus from you legally, but I will not allow you to abuse any more bots under my watch."

Crankcase swore at Pharma before he attempted to coax Tesarus out of his cage. The massive bot only moved when he was threatened with the shock collar, painfully standing up and following his master silently towards the door. Pharma watched the two go, hoping that by some miracle Tesarus would be okay.

Crankcase said nothing to Tesarus until they returned to his room in the large apartment, the damaged former Decepticon ordering Tesarus to lay on the berth. Tesarus hung his head and did as was ordered, looking so small despite his frame size. Crankcase sighed, rubbing his helm.

"Tesarus, you have to listen to me. When I said I was sorry I meant it. You're horrible but I guess I am, too-for making you into this. You're pathetic."

Tesarus stared at his hands, laying uncomfortably on his side. His reattached plating was too sore for him to sit up for long. Crankcase scurried around the room and got some gelled energon for the former DJD member, placing it on the berth in front of Tesarus's faceplate. The grinder didn't eat a thing until Crankcase backed well out of reach, the bot quietly consuming his fuel.

"You have some scuffs on your plating. I'm polishing those off, so stay still."

Crankcase hoped the gentle contact would help their relationship slightly, but he was unpleasantly surprised when he touched Tesarus and the mech let out a terrified sound between a howl and a scream. Tesarus had to be pinned firmly for the polishing in the end, the once brutish mech crying and whimpering like a terrorized mechanimal. It was horrible and Crankcase now saw what Pharma meant. He might never be able to get the old Tesarus to return.

Not only that, but he had no one else to blame besides himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Spinister couldn't fix Kaon's optics as he had once hoped. When he had begun a closer examination before the anticipated procedure, he found that there was no wiring that would allow for sight at all, Kaon's entire frame configured in a different way than other bots he had seen before. The helicopter felt so disheartened since he thought he had somehow failed Kaon.

"Spinister, it's alright. I didn't really want them fixed," Kaon said gently, reaching up and touching Spinister's cheek. While he had no optics, it was clear he could see somehow regardless. His other senses were heightened and he truly felt he would be just fine living out his solar cycles as he was. 

Spinister's rotor blades drooped on his back, the mech hanging his head in shame. After all that he had promised, he couldn't follow through with the vow. Kaon would remain blind and he could do nothing to help him. Kaon would not be able to see the same way other bots did unless he went through serious frame reconfigurations. 

"How about we do something fun? Like a word puzzle?" Kaon asked, trying to coax Spinister from his upset mood. He smiled slightly when he heard rotor blades flare out and perk up, the idea obviously going over well.

"A word puzzle would be enjoyable. I'll go get one for us!"

Kaon waited patiently for Spinister to find a word puzzle data pad, feeling at peace when the other mech returned and sat down close beside him, their frames pressed close as they began the usual event of figuring out the puzzle, laughing and chatting as they did so.

'Who knew this could be my fate,' Kaon chuckled to himself, resting his helm on Spinister's shoulder plating. 'After all the pain and suffering, someone finally loves me and I love him back.'

***

"Tarn, what new data pads would you like? I'm heading to the library," Krok said, turning to glance over at his lounging tank from his desk chair. Tarn rumbled, the massive mech stretching out across their berth, his movement followed by the cracking and popping sounds of his joints. He always got stiff if he stayed in the same place for too long.

"May I accompany you?" Tarn asked, voice smooth and void of malice like one might imagine it to be. For a former killer, Tarn didn't appear to have any interest in attacking or causing trouble. Krok nodded curtly, standing up and pushing in his chair after he arranged his desk. 

"If you would like to join me, I have no problems with it. I should have expected as much, seeing that you have a taste for data pads and choosing them. Besides, I never know which ones you've already read and ," Krok chuckled, the last part said with a small smile. He never kept his battle mask over his faceplate now that things had settled down, all his expressions laid bare now.

"Yes, I am a rather avid reader," Tarn rumbled, rising from their shared berth and following Krok out of their spacious room. 

Each of the Scavengers had their own rooms within the two stories of apartment they owned. Krok and Spinister had the larger two rooms above the others, but all the living spaces were large and included a full wash rack and a kitchen. Tarn had to admit he was enjoying his time there more and more as the solar cycles passed. While he had been so intent on hating the traitor Decepticons for what they had done, the old feelings of malice slowly began to fade away when he saw how everyone was getting along. There was no need to fight or be aggressive when everyone was treated well.

Except Tesarus.

Tarn had heard what was going on between the grinder and Crankcase, the news not good at all. It scared him to think his fellow hunting companion might never recover from the brutal rape and torture he had endured under the vengeful hand of the ex-Con turned Autobot, Tarn still angry with how it had been handled.

"Have you heard anything concerning Tesarus?"

Krok frowned, shaking his head. "Last I heard Crankcase was trying to apologize and give him a new coat of polish. That didn't go well as I'm sure you could imagine and from there I have no idea what they have done to make amends. I worry Tesarus may have been damaged beyond repair at times."

Tarn snarled softly at that, fury beginning to grow. Krok was doing nothing! He should have been trying to aid the grinder, not pass off his misery as a problem he had to fix with his abuser! Krok sighed when he saw the expression in Tarn's optics, the tank still insisting on wearing his mask about in public, shaking his head sadly.

"I know this is not what you want to hear, but Tesarus and Crankcase need to figure this out on their own. If they can't make their relationship work, no one can help them since they won't know the full story. I want to help Tesarus-I really do. But I know what must be done and we should not meddle unless asked for." 

"You are a coward!" Tarn snapped, shoulders tensing angrily. Krok put up his hands to say that Tarn needed to settle.

"I am doing what I know is correct and staying out of affairs that I have no place in. Until they asked for aid, I will give none-and you should do the same." 

Tarn frowned behind his mask and said nothing, lumbering down the stairs from the apartment as they entered the bustling streets. Afternoon sun beamed down on their back plating as they walked along to the library that was nearby. Four blocks of walking later, they arrived at the steps and entered the massive building, Tarn at peace among the many volumes of data pads stacked on shelves.

"Ah, a beautiful sight! All these data pads waiting to be read!" Tarn chuckled joyously, Krok letting him wander about. He had no fear that Tarn would cause any trouble when he was in his element.

'He's almost cute when he's excited,' Krok mused with an affectionate smirk as he observed Tarn bounding from shelf to shelf of the poetry section, delicately selecting data pads until he had a full stack balanced in his left arm. 'I truly am lucky to have such a good companion. Tarn is so much more than I could have ever imagined.'

***

Tesarus still avoided Crankcase when the mech entered the room or came close to him at all. He skittishly shied back until he could find a place to hide and be left alone, keeping his head bowed in submission and fear the whole while. Crankcase tried to talk to him a few times, silently cursing when his calls only drove Tesarus further away, the grinder thinking he was going to be yelled at for doing something wrong.

"Can we talk?! Or are you going to run away again?" Crankcase demanded when he finally cornered Tesarus in the wash racks. Tesarus said nothing, simply staring in horror at his abuser as he pressed tightly against the shower wall.

"You're going to hurt me again," Tesarus insisted, optics bright with alert terror. He didn't trust Crankcase one bit and refused to move away from his somewhat protected area. "I know you now."

Crankcase sighed softly, sitting down on the rim of the bathtub. Tesarus stiffened all over due to the close proximity, shifting nervously from pede to pede as he searched for an exit. There was no way he could get to the door without passing very closely to Crankcase, which was NOT an option, so he was effectively stuck cowering in the wash rack tub.

"I want to talk about it and do whatever to make it up to you," Crankcase muttered, optics narrowed with annoyance. He hated what Tesarus acted like, yet he knew he had singlehandedly done all the damage to the grinder himself.

"I'd like you to leave me alone,...Master," Tesarus replied, having latched onto the title after Crankcase had insisted on it earlier to establish dominance. Once it had pleased Crankcase, but now it made him curse and angrily storm off. Just as Tesarus suspected, Crankcase swore at him and grit his dentas. 

"What don't you understand?! I told you not to use that title anymore! We aren't doing that slag again!"

Tesarus appeared confused and even more terrorized, staring at the floor of the bathtub. He had done a bad thing and was going to get punished for it. The memories of humiliation and burning pain flashed past his vision and he let out a strangled yelp, throwing himself at the door in a panic to escape. Crankcase was ready for the attempt to bolt, swiftly beating the heavier mech to the door and shutting it with a slam. Tesarus reared back and retreated to the far end of the fancy wash rack. 

"Quit that! We are going to talk this out and figure out how to fix everything! Got it?!"

Tesarus felt washer fluid in his optics when he realized there was no escape from what was sure to come next, hyperventilating as he sunk onto the floor in a heap of misery. He stared up at Crankcase, huddled on the floor like a beaten mechanimal puppy.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, I swear I'll be better!" he cried, begging for mercy. His valve cover was pulled back, his repaired valve protoflesh showing as he turned and feebly tipped his aft up for Crankcase. "Please don't hurt me like last time..."

Crankcase inwardly groaned, watching the ruined mech try to get out of 'trouble' by offering the one thing he assumed his master would take as an exchange. The Scavenger slowly knelt down and softly ran a hand along Tesarus's thigh. Tesarus flinched, only barely managing to keep himself steady at the feeling of a hand so close to his exposed heat.

"Tesarus, I don't want to frag you."

"Primus, help me," Tesarus whispered hoarsely, assuming he was going to be raped again or worse, tortured somehow.

Crankcase hesitantly touched Tesarus's valve panel and manually slid it back over his valve, the grinder unable to keep back a squeal of startled panic. He felt no pain after his cover was returned to its rightful place, relaxing only slightly. More evil would surely come his way. Crankcase was a menace, a threat that had to be avoided at all costs and obeyed when there was no other choice.

"There you go. No need to be showing me that."

Tesarus quivered when he felt a hand slowly pet across his back paneling, a petrified whine coming from his throat as he was touched. Crankcase clicked his glossa softly and said a few soothing words of reassurance, continuing to pet the large DJD member. Tesarus shivered the entire time, wishing it would end even if it wasn't horrible so far. 

"That's it...I'm not going to hurt you again. Never again," Crankcase crooned, gruff personality fading as he did his best to work with Tesarus. He knew the other mech's recovery would be long and hard, considering that the bot was so scarred. Even so, there was still a chance he might come around someday.

Tesarus never expected the soft touches from his captor, trying to stay stock still in order to prevent Crankcase from becoming angry with him for not behaving. No blows came and his valve panel remained shut, the mech puzzled as to what Crankcase had in mind for him. This was nothing like he expected.

"I'm sorry, you big wretch. I shouldn't have done that to you even if you are a filthy murderer. I guess you're my murdering fool now so I have to watch out for you."

"Master, I'd like to go-"

"-Don't call me Master again or I'll give you a good smacking! As for whether or not you can go, I say you can't. We're talking right now."

Tesarus braced for a punch that never came, anticipating the worst thing possible. It never happened, the mech instead being pet and touched in firm yet gentle way along his heaving sides and back. He went silent after he saw there was nothing whimpering would do to save him from his fate-whatever it might be. Crankcase rubbed between armor plating and smiled slightly when he finally felt Tesarus relax his muscle cabling. After a few more long clicks, the larger mech sunk fully into the floor and laid there, defeated and too worn out to be scared anymore. 

"See? I'm not hurting you. You're fine." 

Tesarus said nothing, shivering slightly while Crankcase continued to pet him. While there was no pain, he was unsure if Crankcase's touch would ever be associated as a gentle one in his mind. It was hard to know as only time would tell.

***

Tarn and Krok returned to their apartment room in good spirits, both carrying stacks of data pads. Krok laughed warmly when Tarn deposited his data pads on a table and came over to nuzzle the top of his companion's helm, rumbling deeply from his chest as he did so. He no longer had his dangerous vocalizer that could manipulate sparks, but he still had the same silky yet powerful voice when he spoke.

"Shall we head to bed, my dear?" Tarn asked, a big paw of a hand resting on Krok's shoulder as he guided them to their shared berthroom. Krok chuckled, letting himself be led about.

"I think it's time for a good rest...or at least a good lunar cycle."

Tarn's laughter boomed across the room when they entered, the thought of them sleeping so soon quite amusing. Once they were inside their berthroom, the two mechs started to play wrestle. The slave collar understood it was all in good humor, the tackling and biting not meant to be harmful to the Master. Krok grunted when he was tackled onto the berth by Tarn, managing to push the tank to the side and squirm away before Tarn could win the match.

"You'll have to try harder than that, Tarn!" 

Tarn and Krok battled for dominance yet again in the soft berth, tangled in mesh blankets as they rolled about trying to decide who would be allowed to spike the other. Tarn threw his mask to the sidelines when they broke apart to catch their breaths, his scarred but ruggedly handsome face molded into a smile as he regarded his companion.

Krok stared, always pleased to see who Tarn really was. There was a moment of surreal quiet as they watched one another, appreciating the frame and being of the bot across from them. In that moment Tarn moved forward on the berth, gently pushing Krok over onto his back before he settled over his frame. Krok made a soft grunt of protest, opening his mouth to say that was cheating when Tarn stole a deep, claiming kiss.

Tarn nudged Krok's legs apart and released his spike, glad when he felt the sharp tip slide between glistening valve folds. Krok had submitted and now things could begin. With a smooth thrust the black and purple tank had his spike halfway sheathed inside gripping heat, a loud groan escaping as his twitching spike was enveloped by wonderful tightness. Another good hump and he had fully penetrated his companion, spearing him between the legs with his impressive weapon.

Krok and Tarn were quiet when they made love, soft grunts and chuff all that could be heard as the two tangled together in the blankets. Tarn's massive form blanketed Krok as he worked, his spike slick and stiff as it worked in and out of his willing partner. The pace and ferocity of the thrusts picked up as the end grew near, Tarn letting out a guttural grunt-shout as he overloaded without much warning.

"Tarn! Nfff, frag!" Krok panted, the spike tie creating a huge deal of pressure between his spread legs while transfluid spurted from Tarn's twitching member. If filled the space between the spike tie and the gel gestation chamber wall, Krok laying still while he waited for Tarn to finish up.

"My glorious one, you look so handsome when you overload with me," Tarn purred, nuzzling Krok's cheek. Krok reached up and cupped Tarn's head in his hands, stroking his damaged cheeks with his thumbs. 

"I love you," Krok sighed, optics warm as he looked up at Tarn, the behemoth tank who had been such a feared killer now the most affectionate and loving mech there could be.

"I love you even more."

Tarn pressed their foreheads together for a moment, Krok shutting off his optics and smiling at the tender gesture. All was right in the world they shared together, each respecting the other and able to forgive the past. It had taken a great deal of time and work, but it was possible for love to reach between factions and meld them into one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally I have the energy and time to update! 
> 
> Lots of Tesarus in this chapter~

Tesarus still wasn’t coming around like Crankcase had hoped. The interaction in the wash rack had been difficult and forced, so the moment Tesarus was allowed to leave he had made a mad dash for the door and bolted to the berthroom. There he had attempted to hide himself away in a blanket storage closet. 

“Are you really going to do this again?” Crankcase snapped, patience worn thin. He had been trying to get the stupid brute to trust him and it seemed like no matter what he tried it wouldn’t work. Tesarus had decided after the rape that he had no interest in being near his Master-which made sense, but it caused Crankcase to be even angrier with himself over what had happened. 

Tesarus ended up recharging in the closet that night, unwilling to leave the safe spot. He could hear Crankcase walking around and later getting some energon in the night, the grinder choosing to stay where he was until the coast was clear. The Scavenger had left the room at last, the welcomed silence soothing the bot’s frayed nerves.

He didn’t care where his owner had gone off to, simply glad that he could go to the wash rack and start peeling off his armor plates all over again. He vaguely thought about how he would be punished for it since he was bleeding on the floor, but the thought was pushed off to the side. He would deal with Crankcase and the scolding once the mech returned.

***

“Can I come in there or are you two busy?” Crankcase demanded through the door of Krok and Tarn’s room. There was some shuffling from the inside and then Krok was at the entryway to the room, an optic ridge raised in curiosity. 

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, it’s my stupid pet. I don’t want him anymore.”

“You’re getting rid of Tesarus?” Krok asked, surprised at the sudden announcement. Tarn rumbled dangerously in the background, the sound of the tank lumbering over heavy and threatening. Even with a collar, Tarn was an impressively dangerous bot.

“He has to go someplace else. He’s scared of me and I can’t make him calm down no matter what I do. I tried whatever Pharma said would work and it hasn’t done shit, so that’s why I’m here. I’m telling you that I’m either going to sell him or give him to somebody here who wants him. He’s a mental wreck at this point and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

Crankcase set his jaw and glared down Tarn and Krok both, unwilling to back off now that he had made his statement. Tarn curled a lip, the other mech not even noticing the tank was no longer wearing his iconic mask. What was on his mind was Tesarus and what should be done about him. 

“Pharma would likely take him. Not that I even care anymore where he goes.”

“Pharma won’t have time for a pet with his work. Come in and we can talk more. Perhaps you should bring Tesaurs in so that we can hear what he has to say?”

“I couldn’t get him to leave the storage closet, so he’s not coming. Anyway, I don’t want to talk. I just wanted to tell you that I’m done with him now. He was fun for the first day or two. That’s it.”

“We are mechs as much as you hate to admit it. We are not here to be fun little trinkets,” Tarn hissed, his collar buzzing in warning for him to relax. His entire frame had tensed up in anticipation for a fight, his optics locked onto his target. Crankcase sneered at him.

“Well, too bad. Look who’s wearing a collar and who’s not. All you are is a toy. Don’t think that Krok sees you differently. He might act like it but it’s not real. Everyone knows you’re pets and that’s the end of it. And pets that aren’t good get sold. Like Tesarus.”

Crankcase turned and left after that, deciding he would take some pictures of his pet and post them on the auction website. Surely someone would want to take on the former DJD member. He was a novelty pet even with all his difficult ticks. So the Scavenger returned to his room, making his way to the storage closet where he found the gristly scene of Tesarus sitting in a pool of his own energon and armor plates.

“Tesarus, what were you thinking?!” he exclaimed, the big mech cowering as Crankcase snatched up the armor plates that had been stacked into a neat yet gruesome stack. “You have to stop doing this!”

“I can’t stop, it makes me feel better!” Tesarus snapped back, finally speaking up. “I have to take my mind off what you did and this is the best way!”

“There has to be a better way than this. I’m going to be selling you, so we’re going right back to Pharma to have the armor put on. Then I’m taking you right to the fragging auction house where I’ll give you away for free if I have to! You’ve been a thorn in my side since I got stuck with you!”

Tesarus withered under the shouting, wishing he could find someplace to curl up and die in. He was so sick of this! He wanted to be back to his old self and he feared it might be impossible at this point. Plus now he had to worry about being sent off to some other abusive bot who might rape him continuously. At the very least Crankcase had only done the one time and left him alone since then. Not that it was good by any means, but some mechs could certainly do worse.

He was hauled off by the collar after that to the ground bridge, ending up in Pharma’s care soon after. The medic was kind enough to fully sedate him for the procedure at least, carefully putting the grinder back together like a ruined puzzle. Once repaired, Crankcase returned Tesarus to their apartment and called Krok in.

“Do you want him?” he asked simply, the newly repaired Tesarus hanging his head in shame and fear. Krok frowned, shaking his head. 

“I hardly have time to make Tarn happy. Adding another bot to my life would be hard. I will call Fulcrum and see what he things. Him or Misfire would likely be willing to give him a try.”

***

“You’re such a good boy, Helex,” Fulcrum purred, giving Helex another bath. While the bot had complained fiercely the first time, now he was so used to it that it had become a welcomed routine.

Helex rumble-purred as he was tended to, sitting happily in the wash rack tub while hot oil swirled around him. He was splashed across the wide expanse of his back with the liquid, grumbling contentedly about it. The brute then leaned back and mouthed at Fulcrum’s gentle hands whenever they came in reach, the gesture one of affection and a hint of playfulness. He was happy, surprisingly enough. All it had taken was for him to let down his guard just a little. 

Fulcrum was not the enemy.

“How does your back feel? Most of those old cuts you have healed up,” the K-Con asked, scrubbing between some of Helex’s side plating. He could feel the extra warmth of the bot’s smelter there, the gurgling molten compartment no longer intimidating. Just as Helex no longer feared and mistrusted Fulcrum, Fulcrum no longer feared and mistrusted Helex. He wasn’t a wild beast bent on killing and maiming. Helex was just a mech who was in a bad place as a pet but trying to make the best of his fate. 

“Feels better. Hate to admit you did something good, but I can’t deny it. So I guess you aren’t too bad for an Autobot traitor,” Helex grunted back, leaning his helm into Fulcrum’s hands as the mech worked on washing him off there.

“Hey, now. Don’t be too hard on me!” Fulcrum said softly, letting the teasing go. He could take it as he was well accustomed to Misfire’s nearly constant pestering. Helex was a little more gruff and aloof about his, but it didn’t bother the other bot much at all. “Once this is done do you want to find something to eat? We can see if Misfire and Vos are out in the living room watching the holo screen again.”

“Sounds good to me,” Helex hummed, not about to reject the offer. It was nice that Fulcrum included him, the mech treating him so much more than a simple pet. Sure, there were some things that were pet-like, such as being trained to do certain pet tricks or eating out of mechanimal bowls, but for Helex he didn’t have a choice and honestly didn’t care anymore. He had come to terms with his fate and had to say he was grateful to have bot like Fulcrum as his ‘owner’ rather than someone less kind and agreeable.

He bumped his head into Fulcrum’s arms like a horse might push their head against their rider’s hand for more attention. Fulcrum smiled and gave Helex a tender hug, about to tell him something when he heard a knock on the door of their living quarters. 

“Huh, I wonder who that is. Want to stay here while I check it out?”

“No, I’ll go with you,” Helex declared, getting out of the tub without a second thought. He wanted to stay close to Fulcrum and make sure nothing bad happened to him. There was a possessive streak to him, after all. 

Dripping oil the entire way across the living quarters, Helex plodded alongside Fulcrum up to the entrance of their apartment within the compound. Upon reaching the door, Fulcrum saw Crankcase was standing there looking angry as all hell. The K-Con didn’t have a chance to say a word before the other mech went off on a rant about how much he couldn’t stand owning a pet and that he no longer wanted the mess that was Tesarus. 

“So I’m here to ask you if you want him. Totally free. Otherwise I’ll be taking him to the auction and see if I can’t get a little bit of money for him.”

“You can’t get rid of him! He’s part of the family here!” 

“Try telling him that, he doesn’t want my input anymore. The mech just tore off his armor plates again when I went to talk to Krok. He’s recovering and hopefully won’t pull any more stunts. He’s more trouble than he’s worth so I’m over and done with him.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t really have the space but I don’t want you to sell him so…so sure, I’ll take him. Helex can maybe make him feel better.”

“Good, whatever. I don’t care what you do with him but I know I don’t want the stupid brute anymore,” Crankcase grunted, trying to put on a gruff exterior so no one would see how upsetting the whole thing was for him. He didn’t want to give up Tesarus. He didn’t want to admit he had done something awful to him. He wanted things to be normal and of course it simply wouldn’t be. 

Helex listened to everything with a stern frown on his face. He was not happy to hear what had happened to Tess, but at least now the bot would have a safer place to recover. Maybe if they got him away from Crankcase he would cease the armor peeling behavior. Only time would tell. 

“When should we come get him?”

“Now. I’m sick of him,” Crankcase said, leading the way back to his quarters where a skittish Tesarus was sitting uncomfortably on a couch. The mech looked up like a startled rabbit when he saw Crankcase enter, but then found Helex and Fulcrum were there, too. 

“Tess?” Helex asked, his familiar voice bringing the grinder out of his shell within seconds.  
“Helex, you’re okay! Frag, I had no idea what was happening to you since I was stuck in here for so long but you look great! Better than before, actually,” he said, excited to greet the other bot. They hugged, slapping each others backs and getting a bit rough. 

“Fulcrum keeps good care of me. Unlike some owners, he’s very fair.”

Crankcase frowned and grit his dentas, holding back a mean comment he wanted to make. He had been a fine owner! Tesarus was simply weak and hadn’t been able to handle him was all. Fulcrum beamed when he was complimented, offering a hand to Tesarus. 

“Nice to meet you. So do you want to come back to my place? We’ll have to set up some more things so you’ll be able to fit on the berth but it should be fine!”

Tesarus looked like he wanted to say yes, but hesitated. Glancing over at his owner, he waited to hear what Crankcase would say. “Am I…going with them?”

“I don’t see why not. Either that or you get sold because I can’t take care of you anymore. I don’t want to. You’re a pain in the aft,” Crankcase muttered, dismissively waving the other mech away. “Go curl up with them and quit ripping your ugly armor off.”

Tesarus nervously bowed his head, looking over at Helex once he sorted out what he wanted to say.

“I wanna go with you guys.”

Fulcrum smiled and motioned for Tesarus to follow him, the mech plodding along beside Helex. The pair were getting along well, pleased to see one another after their separation. Even living in the same general area, their masters had not interacted and had stayed to their own quarters. But now they were going to be together at last. 

“Here’s your new home! I’ll have a new berth ordered so we can push them together and have lots of space. You’re both rather big,” Fulcrum said, motioning for Tess to kneel down. “Your collar looks too tight. Let’s fix that, yeah?”

Tesarus was tense all over as Fulcrum started to work on the collar, loosening it so the grinder wouldn’t be so constricted. The hands at his vulnerable neck bothered the tan and red mech, but he thankfully didn’t lash out or attempt to bite. Only a few soft warning growls were made and all of them were heeded by Fulcrum. When the smaller mech pulled away and smiled, Tess felt the tightness around his neck had faded. He had hardly noticed how tight the collar was until it had been loosened, the abused mech tilting his head in curiosity.

Why was Fulcrum kind? How could he be different from Crankcase? It was odd for the former DJD member to wrap his head around the idea. He didn’t know kindness, so having someone do such a simple but nice thing for him was puzzling. 

Tesarus was lost in his thoughts, jolted out of them when he saw Fulcrum head off with Helex to the wash racks, both of them calling for him to join in. The grinder approached cautiously, unsure what he would find but hoping it would be safe. So far Fulcrum didn’t seem evil like Crankcase had been, but how could he ever be sure anymore? Trust, once lost, was always very difficult to regain.


	11. Chapter 11

“Why are you so obsessed with biting?!” Misfire demanded as he held Vos under the arms and gave him a good glower. “You gotta stop being so mean to me. I don’t do anything to hurt you!”

Vos chittered in his native tongue and gave Misfire a snarky little grin. The aerial stuck his glossa out at him in return and hugged his pet to his chest. There was some hissing and spitting about that, but Vos didn’t squirm out of reach or cause any damage with his claws. He even rested his chin on Misfire’s shoulder after a few moments, the Scavenger patting Vos’ back once he had settled down.

“You’re such a good boy, Vos. You know I was only teasing you about the biting thing. You know I like it,” he murmured, giving Vos all the attention he could ever want. He might have ADHD, but Misfire was always able to focus when it came to caring for his pet.

The gun-former was a good companion even if they couldn’t communicate verbally. Vos was a bit like a feline, aloof and able to do well on his own but sometimes coming around for affection. Otherwise he would merely tolerate Misfire’s advances and allow the larger mech to carry him about and groom him. Right now was one of the times when Vos was seeking out some love, having found his owner playing some video games and settling right on his lap to distract him. It hadn’t worked right away, so Vos had begun to nip lightly at his master’s frame to fully take his gaze away from the holo screen and onto him.

Vos churred soothingly and nuzzled into Misfire’s neck, his warm faceplate pressed up against vulnerable cabling. He remembered how he used to slice into cabling like that, how much he had enjoyed the spray of energon and the panicked gasps of his victims. But now he didn’t feel the same kind of urge to maim and kill. He had experienced kindness and friendship from Misfire, something he had gone thousands and thousands of years without. Vos hadn’t realized what he had been missing out on, but after becoming Misfire’s companion he had swiftly learned his life before now had been a hollow, twisted thing. 

The jet squeezed him again in his enveloping hug, cuddling with ease. Vos was hard to handle  
sometimes, but he was also amazing. Smart, quick, amusing…he was a lot of things that Misfire admired and respected him for.

“I know, you want some of my famous hugs, right? Well, you’re in luck because I give them out for free!” he snickered, always talking even though he assumed Vos didn’t catch all his ramblings. The former DJD member did actually understand but was unable to communicate back, so Misfire was under the impression that half of what he said was unknown.

Vos rolled his fiery red optics and let Misfire cradle him like a sparkling, his lithe frame light and easy to handle. He nestled in close to Misfire’s chest plates and purred, claws hooked possessively into his owner’s shoulder seams. The weapons didn’t draw energon, but their insistent needy pricks got the reaction Vos had intended from his master.

“Oooh, so you’re in a good mood now after being a pest and messing up my high score? I didn’t think I’d see that today from you after all those nips you gave my poor hands in the morning. How am I supposed to give you baths and stuff if you wreck my hands, you turd,” Misfire asked, getting a soft grumble of clicks and whirs back. “Hey, don’t talk back to me!”

Misfire playfully rolled them over on the couch so he was on top of Vos, the little mech hissing and nipping at his faceplate as the two of them gently play wrestled. It was a thing they had only recently started to try, both of them enjoying a small amount of roughhousing if the mood was right. Vos latched onto Misfire’s neck with his arms and squeezed, growling something that sounded like ‘mine now’ before he was pinned by one of the jet’s big hands. 

“Gotcha!” Misfire yipped, pressing down on the gun-former a little too hard. 

Vos whined softly when his back ached from the pressure, the signal one Misfire knew meant pain. He quickly moved his hand and scooped Vos up into his arms, frowning with concern. “Your back again?” he inquired, getting a weary nod from the purple and silver sniper rifle. “Want me to take you back to Pharma to have it checked out? It’s been a while so I’d have assumed you’d feel better by now. Like not just a little but a lot better.”

Vos huffed, not sure what he wanted to do. He wasn’t interested in being poked around at by Pharma or any medic for that matter, but he also wanted to feel good again. His back had been bothering him ever since Spinister had shot him out of the tree.

“Think about it and write me or something if you want to go. Otherwise I’ll keep asking and drive you crazy,” Misfire snickered, rocking Vos gently to soothe the skinny companion. Vos seemed to enjoy the attention, optics half shuttered as he relaxed. “Hey, so how about we feed you and settle in to watch a movie? That might be nice.”

Vos nodded in agreement, clinging to Misfire as the aerial stood up and walked into the small kitchen of his apartment. He grabbed some snacks like silver chips and barium puffs, then headed over to their berthroom. Setting Vos down, Misfire spread a towel over the area where they would eat since crumbs were inevitable, then plopped down beside the other bot.

“Can I feed you?”

Vos hissed softly at him, rolling onto his side like an annoyed cat so he could swat his owner with sharp little claws.

“Hey, hey! Quit it!” Misfire shot back, holding out a barium puff to the other mech. “Just humor me and let me feed you, it’s cute.”

Vos nipped at Misfire’s hand a few times before he finally took the snack, snatching it quickly between his dentas and munching away on it. Misfire rolled his optics, offering another puff soon after. They put on the holo screen and settled into a routine, Misfire offering a treat and eating one himself. After an hour passed they had devoured the bag and moved on to the silver chips.

“You like the little crumbly bits at the bottom of the bag?” Misfire asked, getting some chittering back. It sounded positive so Misfire handed over the bag and watched as Vos daintily picked out the broken chips between his slim claws and popped them into his mouth. It seemed to entertain the bot so Misfire let it happen.

He threw the garbage off the side of the berth and then lay down, Vos doing the same when he finished the silver chips. The smaller bot snuggled nicely against Misfire’s side, the magenta colored jet grinning as he wrapped an arm around the other bot’s frame.

“You’re something else, Vos. In the best way,” Misfire hummed, feeling a warm cheek press up against his. Then bright red optics were gazing up at him, Vos saying something in his Primal Vernacular that Misfire wouldn’t have a chance of understanding. “I’m glad it’s a mutual thing. I can’t figure out what you’re saying but it sounds favorable.”

Vos purred and lightly tapped Misfire’s helm, the playful gesture one that said he wanted to continue the light wrestling they had been doing earlier on the couch. Misfire gladly joined in the game, rolling around with the gun-former until he found himself on his back with Vos draped across his front. He grinned, the roguish smile returned right away by Vos.

“You’ve got me, Vos. Now what’re you gonna do?” he asked, the jet shuddering when the lithe mech cupped his cheeks with his hands, those dangerous claws careful not to do harm. Misfire had seen what they had done to Flywheels but felt he was safe-and it wasn’t just because Vos wore a collar now.

“Misssssssff…fffyyyyrrrre,” Vos crooned, petting his owner’s cheeks before he leaned forward and nuzzled the mech all over. 

“What’s on your mind, Vos?” Misfire asked, impressed that the little bot had tried his name. Vos didn’t reply, instead placing a soft kiss on Misfire’s slightly parted lips. Then he settled on top of the aerial with an expectant look on his face, aft wriggling cutely in anticipation. “Oh, so /that’s/ what’s on your mind? Horny tonight?” 

Vos whined, rubbing against Misfire some more. If that didn’t get his point across, the skinny mech wasn’t sure what would! Thankfully the jet understood and rolled them over, lightly pinning Vos under his frame. 

“Vos, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fit, honestly,” Misfire admitted, giving the other a sheepish grin. “You’re pretty tiny and I’m not all that small down south.”

Vos hissed at him, rolling his optics. He also made sure to buck his hips against Misfire’s pelvic panel in a demanding fashion. The larger mech was heating up already, his optics nervously flicking around as if making sure no one was watching what was starting to occur. 

“Uh, okay…if you’re sure you want to try this,” he said, unsure how he was supposed to proceed. Vos slid a hand between their frames and tapped on his spike panel, asking for it to be revealed. “If you’re sure, Vos.”

Misfire pulled back the panel and allowed his spike to spring free, the appendage half erect already. His hips gave a little jerk when he felt the bot’s hands wrap around the shaft, stroking along the breeding organ with gentle firmness. Misfire grumbled something and flared his armor, heat starting to roll off of him.

“You’re going to make it hard for me not to go crazy on you tonight, Vos. Damn, it’s been way too long since I’ve had this kind of attention!”

Misfire didn’t hear Vos’ valve panel click back, only realizing what was going on when the small mech guided his spike between slim thighs and pushed the sharp tip past soft outer folds. Misfire groaned, the silken heat absolutely maddening. He wanted to rut so badly but held himself back, fearing he would hurt the other mech if he did such a thing. 

“Vos, tell me if it hurts, will you? You gotta promise,” he insisted, getting a nod from Vos and a sweet trill. The little mech had wrapped his arms around Misfire’s neck now, clinging on to him possessively. 

Misfire couldn’t hold back after that. He pinned Vos a little harder into the berth and pushed his hips forward, their fronts now pressed flush together. He felt Vos kick one of his legs out but didn’t stop, his now very stiff spike splitting past valve folds and into the other mech’s molten tightness. Vos purred and hissed during the mounting, only once making a sound of displeasure when Misfire’s spike tip jabbed into an inner valve wall.

“Easy, now…you’re…frag me, you’re doing great!” Misfire gasped, at last feeling that his spike was seated well enough in his companion. “Ready for this?”

Vos’ valve calipers rippled around his spike in answer and soon the pair were coupling like there was no tomorrow. Vos was mewling and gasping under Misfire as the mech arched over him, spike pumping in and out with ease. Vos’ frame was generous with lubrication and soon the pair were in the clutches of passion, neither giving their difference in size a second thought. Misfire had fit and they seemed to be working out nicely.

“Hnnnngg, oh frag, yeah! Yeah yeah yeah, just like that!” Misfire howled, thrusts becoming jerky as he pummeled Vos’ offered valve. “Ooooh, keep doing that squeezing thing…”

Vos was sweetly chirping and crying out, legs wrapped around Misfire’s hips as best as they could. He met every one of the larger mech’s thrusts with a roll of his hips, feeling the invading spike go deeper and deeper with each motion. The pair were working together to chase their overloads, both panting messes by the time they found their pleasure.

Misfire finished first, hips wildly bucking before he overloaded with a shout. His spike pulsed as it unloaded a hefty donation of transfluid into Vos, his spike tie engorging with energon so that the pair became tightly knotted together. Vos hissed and spit when he felt the intense pressure, clawing at Misfire to say he didn’t like the grand finale. 

“Sorry…didn’t pull out in time…” Misfire panted, some oral fluid dribbling down the corner of his mouth. “Frag…that was a good workout!”

Vos shuddered when the spike totally lodged itself in him and continued to twitch, the breeding organ hot and still turgid. It hadn’t pierced the gel wall of his gestation chamber, but it was very close. The gun-former shuddered at the idea of becoming gravid with young, the transfluid bump from Misfire’s load already pushing out his normally slim plating. It was a view of what he could have, the purple and silver mech sighing quietly about it. 

“Did you get off?” Misfire asked once he got his venting under control, very carefully laying them down on their sides so the spike knot didn’t tug on Vos’ tender valve protoflesh. Vos nodded, lightly rubbing Misfire’s chest plates. 

“Yesssss,” he replied, nuzzling his helm under Misfire’s chin. 

“Glad to hear it, Vossy.”

Misfire laughed tiredly when he felt sharp little claws scratch him for the nickname, loving the sting and the almost inaudible chuckle from Vos as they held each other. Their frames were both wet with condensation from the mating, but they had never felt so good. 

“Let’s nap this off and we can clean off when we wake up. Sound like a plan?”

Vos purred, agreeing that it was. 

After that was decided, the pair passed out together, Misfire’s leg draped over Vos’ thigh while their spike and valve remained connected for the next half hour. Even after the jet’s spike softened and slid free of Vos’ stretched mech cunt, they remained laying in the same intimate position until they woke hours later. 

***

Tesarus peeked into the wash rack and was shocked to find Helex being pampered like a prince. The mech was sitting in a full tub of oil, rumble-purring like no tomorrow as Fulcrum washed him down. The smelter’s audio horns were cutely drooping to the sides of his helm like a happy canine, his molten red optics half shuttered with pleasure. Clearly he was having a good time.

“Tesarus, do you want a bath, too? I can clean you off after Helex is done,” Fulcrum offered, currently working some cleanser between the big mech’s helm. Helex grunted happily when the K-Con fondled his audio horns, the yellow appendages flicking slightly as they were touched. 

Tesarus hesitated, unsure what he should say. He didn’t like the idea of being touched all over as he associated hands with pain or medical procedures now. Not to say that Pharma had ever been cruel to him, but medical repairs often hurt after they were finished and the grinder didn’t want to experience any more aches and pains. 

“He’s really good at this, Tess. Just do it. I know you’re messed up in the head right now but Fulcrum’s someone you can trust,” Helex assured, leaning his helm back and grinning slightly at the K-Con. Fulcrum beamed a bright smile back, pressing a light kiss to Helex’s nose.

“Only if you feel comfortable enough, Tesarus. There’s no need to rush into anything you don’t want to do.”

Tesarus inched closer, still unsure but showing signs he wanted to join. His larger pair of arms folded across his chest while the smaller ones were held at rest. Peering into the tub, he finally decided it looked nice and that he wanted attention from Fulcrum, too.

“Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

“That’s great! Tell me whenever you don’t feel comfortable, okay? And Helex, you’re done after I wash off the cleanser.”

Helex chuffed and spluttered when a bowl of oil was dumped over his helm, the mech shaking off and ruffling his armor plates. He turned around and nipped playfully at Fulcrum’s wrists and hands, growling. “Do that again, I dare you,” he teased, rising from the tub and splashing Tess on his way out. “Get in there, Tess. Fulcrum will get you sorted out.

Fulcrum watched as Tesarus carefully got into the oil bath, letting him settle in while he went to dry Helex off. Helex fluffed up his armor so his owner could dry off all the armor and get into all his seams, gentle but firm enough to get the job done. 

“Good boy, Helex,” he murmured, giving the brute a hug and getting a one-armed squeeze in return. 

“Go make sure Tesarus feels better,” he urged, seeing the grinder was visibly relaxing now that he was in the hot oil. “He needs somebody after everything he’s been though.”

Fulcrum nodded and approached Tesarus carefully, making sure to move slowly. Tess saw him coming and tensed, his X shaped optics nervous. They were harder to read than normal optics, but Fulcrum would figure them out with some time. 

“Can I wash you off?”

“Yeah…I guess,” Tesarus grumbled, inching closer to the rim of the tub. Fulcrum reached out to touch him and in an instant the tan and red mech pulled swiftly out of reach, a soft warning growl escaping before he could help himself. 

“Tess, come on! He’s not going to hurt you!” Helex snapped, getting a glower from his master. 

“Helex, he’s been through Pit. Don’t judge him for what’s happened,” Fulcrum said gently, offering his hand to the grinder but not touching him. “You can tell me when you’re ready to be touched. If not today, feel free to use the rack as long as you want on your own.”

Tesarus nodded, remaining out of reach. Fulcrum drew his hand back and nodded, understanding it was too soon for Tesarus to be interested in making contact. He would come around with time, but right now it was not meant to be. So Fulcrum motioned for Helex to follow and sent Tesarus a smile. 

“When you finish, we’ll be at the kitchenette. It’s getting late and we haven’t made anything to eat.”

“Frag, we haven’t! Can’t believe I forgot to be hungry for once,” Helex muttered, the pair leaving Tess to clean on his own. 

The grinder was grateful for the space, starting to self-groom. Dirt he didn’t even know was on him drifted from his armor and into the oil as he scrubbed himself off with a sponge and some cleanser. He had forgotten kindness and what it felt like to be clean, hands shaking as he set the cleanser bottle down. Crankcase had ruined his life, but he wanted to get better. He wanted to recover and get the affection Helex seemed to have won from Fulcrum.

He emerged from the wash rack an hour after he had entered, wandering into the small kitchen of the apartment where he saw Helex was attempting to teach Fulcrum how to make something new for dinner. 

“No, you gotta melt it at /this/ temperature. Trust me, I know how to melt stuff…”

“I don’t doubt it, but you have to let me learn so I can make this on my own!” Fulcrum shot back, the two interacting like a bonded couple. It made Tesarus’ spark bright but also bothered him. How come they got to be so close? Jealousy flared to life for only a few moments before Tesarus fully entered the room and lightly punched Helex’s shoulder.

“Can I do something?” he wondered, holding up his hands. Fulcrum nodded, quickly loading up Tess with bowls and ingredients to hold.

“Okay, now we need two tablespoons of cadmium. Helex, that’s too much!” Fulcrum laughed, watching as Helex dumped a heavily piled spoonful of cadmium powder into the main mixing bowl. 

“Pfff, it’ll be fine. We don’t need to follow the instructions exactly. That’s dumb.”

Fulcrum rolled his optics, but did manage to catch a glimmer of a grin on Tess’ faceplate. They’d bring him out of his shell soon enough. Once he realized he was among friends and safe, the world would be just a little less cruel.


	12. Chapter 12

“Tarn, do you want to come with me to the grocery store?” Krok asked, the tank currently dozing off on the couch. The leader of the Scavengers smiled behind his face mask when he saw the purple and black mech’s helm pop up over the top of the furniture to look at him. 

“Only if we can also take a trip to the library. I have finished with your meager collection of novels already.” 

“We can make a stop off for data pads. Come on, let’s go before the commuting rush,” Krok urged, having taken inventory on all of his team’s apartments for what was needed. While they all had spaces of their own, the compound was his and he needed to make sure everyone was fed and well taken care of it. The paternal instinct in him demanded nothing less. So every week he would make a trip to the grocery to buy bulk quantities of what everyone needed.

Tarn rose from the couch and plodded over to his master’s side, clicking his face mask back into place. He no longer wore it when he was inside the room with Krok, but in public he wanted no one to see who he really was. Plus when walking among the enemy it was best if they couldn’t read you. Autobots didn’t deserve to see his true face. 

He made a soft growl when Krok suddenly clipped a leash to his collar, the mech sighing in response.

“I know, I don’t like it either. But it’s expected of pets to be leashed when in public spaces.”

“And do many owners take their slaves out for walks?” Tarn sneered, getting a glower from Krok.

“Some do, others do not. Tarn, you don’t have to accompany me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I will go with you in case you require me for carrying fuel and because I am in desperate need of some new reading material,” Tarn said, allowing himself to be led out of the apartment into the main room of the compound. 

Kaon and Spinister were there, the blind mech currently sitting in the aerial’s lap as they attempted to construct a brain teaser puzzle together. 

“Spinister, that piece can’t go there. It doesn’t quite fit,” Kaon said, Spinister mumbling about the pieces before he tried a different one. “No, not that one either. It has to be one with a very small connector…Hand me some more of the pieces so I can feel them.”

Krok was glad they were happy, the pair probably the only ones who truly seemed to get along. Because while he thought he and Tarn were very well off in their odd relationship, there was always some tension between them. Tarn was a caged beast, after all. He had no say in what happened to him and clearly hated the vulnerability, yet all the same he claimed to love Krok. The Scavenger was unsure what he believed, but he was pretty sure love was not the correct word. 

Tarn cared about him, yes, but it was more so for Tarn’s own benefit. If something were to happen to Krok, Tarn would be in serious trouble. He would go to auction and be bought by someone who might abuse him even worse than what Crankcase had done to Tesarus. So Tarn had picked up the habit of professing love and gratitude in order to save himself from cruelty.

It broke Krok’s spark sometimes when he thought about it too hard, because those three simple words Tarn often whispered were true for Krok.

The pair walked out into the busy road, moving along the sidewalk while bots in their alt modes drove along the road. There were mostly free bots milling around, but some had their pets with them. Lots of sedan types and sports models were what Krok saw with the occasional SUV or truck mixed in. Tanks and aerials were the rarest types now because so many had been killed on the front lines during the war.

They passed a few advertisements taped to a store window, Krok pausing briefly to read them when he saw an images of five orange and purple sparklings. Three were SUV types and the other two sedans, all of them looking for someone to adopt them. They were clearly offspring of a pet and his master, the plea for someone to raise them as Autobots making Krok’s tank churn with uncomfortable thoughts. 

“So now they sell sparklings at auctions? And to think everyone thought my profession was dreadful!” Tarn growled, also having read the ad. Krok cleared his throat, unsure how to answer.

“The creators likely don’t want to raise sparklings when one of them is a pet. It would give the little ones mixed messages.”

“Of course the only option would be to sell them off like mechanimal pups. Clearly their creators have their priorities straight,” Tarn spat, absolutely enraged. “Disgusting.”

His collar buzzed to warn him not to continue getting so worked up, but the mech couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand aside and watch what was happening without saying something! Even if his voice was never going to make a difference, he had to make it heard.

“I don’t agree with it in the least, Tarn,” Krok assured, lightly tugging the leash to say they were going to move along. “Let’s go to the library now.”

Tarn was in a surly mood the entire time, snatching some data pads he wanted and waiting while the front desk femme checked them out. She kept giving shy little looks up at Tarn and Krok, her hands somewhat nervous as they scanned the data pad bar codes.

“May I…is he friendly? Can I pet him?” she asked Krok, hopefully looking up at Tarn. “He’s the only tank I’ve ever seen! How did you get him?”

“My team and I were sent to track him and a handful of other runners down. He was my prize you could say,” Krok said, having to put on the air of a proud owner. Which he was, but he knew it would make Tarn angrier. “You have to ask him about petting, though. He always has a say in that kind of thing.”

“You’re a very kind master, then,” the femme said, smiling. “I like that. We need more bots out there like you. Anyway, can I pet you, big boy?” she crooned at Tarn, the tank rumbling darkly. 

“If you dare.”

The femme certainly did dare, reaching over the desk to gently rub under Tarn’s chin. He allowed it, glad he was wearing his mask. If he hadn’t been, the fearsome snarl he was hiding would surely have scared her away. That and he probably would have bitten her for having the audacity to put her hands on him.

“Alright, we have to be going now. Come, Tarn,” Krok said, sensing his companion’s fury and deciding it was time for the interaction to end. 

“Have a nice night!” the femme called after them, so thrilled that she had been able to pet a real tank! She would have to tell her partner when she got home since he had never gotten that close to one.

Tarn snarled once they were outside of the library, pulling on his leash. “I want to go home.”

“We have to get the groceries, Tarn. I know she made you angry but-”

“I wanted to kill her, Krok!” Tarn spat, his collar buzzing again to say that his behavior was bordering on receiving punishment. “I would have snapped her neck if I could! And if I had my vocalizer…you would have seen what I could do,” he hissed, armor flared all over to make him look twice as big and menacing. 

“Tarn, settle down,” Krok commanded, seeing some bots warily moving out of the way. 

Tanks and trucks were often rare but also known for their tempers. They were considered dangerous types of pets and many bots were afraid of them. Some bought them for protection and guards, training them to attack when ordered just like certain breeds of mechanimal canines might be. So when they heard and saw Tarn starting to get out of hand, they avoided him and Krok if at all possible. 

“I will not until I am back home in the apartment,” Tarn hissed, fierce optics fiery behind his mask.

“Not now, Tarn. We have to get the food and then we can go home.”

Krok dragged a very unwilling Tarn to the grocery store, picking up the items he needed as fast as possible. Tarn’s mood was deteriorating by the minute and Krok was starting to worry something might go wrong. Call it a warrior’s sixth sense if you will. 

Krok was right to be worried, the mech bringing Tarn over to the cash register line and demanding he not cause trouble. The tank only growled back, not at all pleased with the outing. He wanted to be back where everyone wasn’t staring at him like a rare beast in a zoo and trying to touch him. Many dragged their smaller pets out of the way, too, keeping them safe from the wild brute they all feared Tarn was. 

‘They should fear me,’ Tarn mused, ex-vents hot behind his mask. ‘They don’t know what I have done, what I am capable of doing.’

The tank chuckled darkly at his memories, staring down at his hands. Oh, how those hands had been used before he was captured and forced into a life of servitude! He remembered how they had always known the slickness of energon and internal component gore, coolant and other fluids dripping from the tips of his fingers. He imagined the femme at the library on the top of The List, wondering how long he could drag out a weaklings death like her own. Her spark was feelble, he was sure. 

Krok didn’t notice that Tarn was sliding into his own personal hell, the tank’s venting starting to get deeper like a bull might huff and puff before charging a matador. The black and purple mech ruffled his armor, the cashier warily glancing up at him but continuing to check out the many items Krok had both ordered for delivery the next day and what he was buying currently.

Behind Tarn and Krok was a yellow and blue Autobot, the SUV holding the leash of his pet. The Decepticon was a truck type, the black and red mech also agitated like Tarn. The bot shifted from pede to pede, his owner keeping a good hold on his leash. Tarn growled and finally glanced back to look at him, his armor remaining puffed up in an aggressive stance. The truck clearly thought it was a dominance display, a deep rumble coming from his chest as his own armor rose up like hackles.

“Don’t even think about it, Burn Out! We’re not in the pit ring,” his owner snapped, yanking his guard pet back. Tarn saw the mech had sheath-able claws, the mods typical for a bot that was trained as a protector and a fighter. Burn Out flexed his claws, ignoring his master’s command just as Tarn’s leash broke.

The tank and the truck went at each other like dogs in a fighting ring, snarling and unstoppable in their blind rage. Neither of them had anything against the other. There were no grudges, no secret knowledge of who the other was. No, this was simply a way to take out their aggression and hate on someone the collars wouldn’t register as a Cybertronian. 

They were sub-beings. 

They were nothing.

Tarn hurled the truck away from him, now covered in bloody gouges from the other mech’s claws. He charged after Burn Out, the truck leaping up to continue the battle. He tore Tarn’s mask off with his dentas, the canines sharpened so that they would do damage when they bit an enemy. Tarn roared when his already scarred faceplate was ripped into, the tank slamming a heavy fist down on Burn Out’s helm. 

The truck’s square helm was dented heavily from the impact and he lost his momentum, getting toppled over by Tarn with a mighty crash. Bots around them were shouting for someone to break them up, the ‘pet fight’ absolutely brutal. Energon and pieces of armor were soon scattered across the supermarket floor, making it slippery and unnavigable. Neither the truck nor the tank were ready to stop, though, the shouting and commotion only driving them on. They wanted to kill something. They wanted someone to hurt for what injustice had been done to them.

Tarn shrieked when Burn Out bit his neck, going after his main line like a mechanimal would. The tank batted him away with his fists and then broke the mech’s arms with muffled snaps, Burn Out howling and screaming about what had just happened. His helm was smashed into the floor a couple times, Tarn battering him ever closer to death.

“Kill me,” Burn Out hissed, the demand just hiding a plea for mercy. The mech wanted to die rather than be a pet, his red optics full of misery and hurt. Tarn’s hand closed over the truck’s throat, beginning to crush it under his palm to give him the end he desired.

Tarn yelp-snarled when someone suddenly hit him in the face with a piece of broken display stand, the owner of Burn Out absolutely livid.

“Get off of him!” he shouted, beating Tarn as hard as he could to drive him off.

Krok by that time had grabbed ahold of the broken leash hanging from Tarn’s neck, pulling him back with all his might. Tarn fought the pulling, dragging the crushed and broken frame of Burn Out after him. He made to lunge for the other Decepticon’s neck, only to have his partly open mouth get hit by the metal bar again.

Tarn recoiled when he felt his jaw snap, a horrible white pain shooting through his frame. Four of his dentas fell out, his nose and mouth bleeding profusely as he was hauled back by Krok. The owner of Burn Out was kneeling by his pet, the truck’s venting ragged thanks to his nearly crushed throat.

“Control your pet!” he spat at Krok, very upset and irate. “He cost me half of my year’s salary!”

“Learn to control /your/ pet!” Krok shot back, trying to stop some of the bleeding on Tarn’s frame. “He completely shredded mine with those claws of his.”

“And your brute broke every part of Burn Out he could reach! C’mon, big boy, you’ll be okay. We’re going to a medic right now,” the yellow and blue SUV promised, picking up his pet and cradling him to his chest. “If he dies you’ll be hearing from the State about your dangerous mechanimal.”

“You know damn well the State won’t do a thing,” Krok hissed, watching as the other Autobot brought out a portable ground bridge and hurried through it, Burn Out catching Tarn’s optics before he silently mouthed, ‘thank you,’ and then was gone. 

Tarn was also whisked away to a med bay, Krok heading to Ratchet’s since it was larger than Pharma’s and the chance that someone would be available to repair Tarn on emergency notice higher. Krok was surprised that he was greeted by First Aid on his way inside, the pacifist gasping when he saw Tarn and also the condition he was in.

“Oh, goodness! What happened?” he asked, calling Ratchet right away. 

“Someones pet went after him in the grocery store,” Krok explained, setting Tarn down on a medical cot once First Aid wheeled one over. Tarn slumped onto his side and lay there in agony, jaw lolling uselessly on his face while half of his cheek protoflesh hung off in a gruesome display.

“What in the name of Primus did you bring me?” Ratchet’s voice barked, the chief medical officer storming over. When he saw who the mech was on the cot and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have a lot of nerve to bring that in here. Tarn and I have a long history—A history in which he killed many of my good friends!”

“Ratchet, please, he’s suffering right now,” Krok said, glaring the medic down. “Your oath-”

“-means that I have to repair him, but I sure as Pit don’t want to. He deserves to suffer for what he did to all of us.”

“Ratchet, he’s suffering enough just by wearing a collar!” Krok shouted, voice cracking with emotion. “Just fix him, damn it all!” 

Tarn’s sides heaved as he lay there, listening to everything yet hearing nothing. They were screaming about him, his optics rolling back as he approached unconsciousness. Ratchet was going to make things hurt worse! He tried to get up to leave but felt his body refusing to respond to the commands. He was drugged on pain, his struggles useless and only causing fiercer protests from his nerves.

Tarn saw First Aid in the background coming closer, the mech scared but also wanting to do his job. He reached out a wobbly hand and placed it on Tarn’s helm, gently petting him. He met Tarn’s optics, topaz blue attempting to understand garnet red. Tarn tried to communicate, one of his big hands shifting on the medical berth towards the soft-spoken medic. He didn’t want to be a monster anymore.

“I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too,” First Aid said softly, trying to be brave. “We need to stop hurting each other, so I’m willing to help you get better,” the red and white mech murmured, hand no longer shaking as it caressed Tarn’s helm.

That was when Tarn began to whimper, the sound so pitiful and emotional that it actually brought Krok and Ratchet out of their ugly argument. First Aid was saying something quietly to the tank, Tarn focused intently on him through his pain. Krok felt washer fluid in his optics, the hot fluid rolling down his cheeks before he could stop it.

“Does he look like a bloodthirsty killer to you now, Ratchet?! He’s been more abused than anyone here! He’s a fragging slave! He’s wearing a collar that hurts him whenever he makes a wrong move and he had his vocalizer chipped so he can’t use his Outlier ability! Tell me /that/ isn’t suffering and punishment enough! Imagine if that was you!”

Ratchet’s lips flattened into a straight line, the CMO grumbling something under his breath. 

“Put him under, First Aid. We need to get to work.”

First Aid hurried off to go prep the medicines that he would need, returning with a cart of tools and a bag of IV fluids laced with sedatives. He gently took Tarn’s heavy hand in both of his, giving it a squeeze before he carefully moved the tank’s arm and searched for his main line. He parted two armor plates near the tank’s elbow joint and found the line, the steady pulse of energon being pumped through it signaling he was in the right spot. 

“When you wake up you’ll feel a lot better,” he murmured, easing the needle through protoflesh and into the main line while Tarn lay nice and still, a calm patient despite all his pains. 

“I’ll come back to pick you up tomorrow, Tarn,” Krok promised, his voice sounding distant as Tarn was already starting to slip away into induced recharge. “You’re in good hands.”

***

Burn Out’s venting systems had shut down shortly after he had reached med bay. The Decepticon was given his freedom through death, Tarn having handed him the chance to escape which he had longed for. His owner had been enraged, but the State didn’t have time to go after any ‘dangerous’ pets. They were busy working on a new government, new laws. No one wanted to kill off a tank anyway, their frame type far too rare. It would be like killing a white lion for attacking a tiger. It simply wouldn’t be done.

***

The next morning Tarn woke in a cage, laying among many blankets and pillows. He felt sore all over, his frame stitched and stapled back together. Ratchet and First Aid had worked on him through the night, ensuring that he would recover. He had lost a great deal of energon from the claw and bite wounds he had received, but he would make a full recovery.

“Hey there,” First Aid said softly from outside the cage bars, watching as Tarn’s optics slowly unshuttered and flicked over to regard him. “How are you feeling?”

The tank didn’t respond with words, his jaw and replaced dentas very sore. But he did manage to drag himself close to the cage bars and rub his undamaged cheek lightly against First Aid’s fingers in a sign of gratitude. The medic smiled behind his face mask, starting to talk to the former DJD member. He forgave him for everything that had happened, even though it was hard.

“Krok just called and he’s coming to get you very soon. Can you use your jaw well?”

“It’s sore,” Tarn replied, trying to open and close the newly repaired appendage. “But it is fixed thanks to you.”

First Aid nodded.

“I’m glad I could help! It’s my job,” he said, hearing the ground bridge in the large waiting room open. “Oh, I think Krok’s here!”

“First Aid,” Tarn croaked just before the medic went scurrying off.

“Yes, Tarn?”

“Thank you…for your forgiveness.”

First Aid bowed his head and then ducked away to the waiting room to let Krok in, the mech hurrying over to Tarn. The tank waited to be dragged out on his bed of blankets as he wouldn’t have been able to stand up in such a low-ceilinged recovery cell. They were made to keep pets from moving much or attacking. A mech who couldn’t stand or have much room to move was hardly a threat. 

“Tarn,” Krok sighed, seeing the mech covered in stitches and bandages. The purple and black mech tried to stand up to greet him, but was swiftly enveloped in a warm hug, his faceplate pressed into Krok’s neck. “I was so worried about you.”

Tarn felt wetness on his shoulder and realized Krok was crying, the washer fluid tears sliding between his armor seams. The tank was stiff and sore, yet he felt no pain at all as he wrapped his heavy arms around Krok’s shoulders to return the hug. Tarn began rumble-purring, holding his owner close. First Aid had stepped back to give them space, but he was glad to see at least some compassion was left in the world. 

“Let’s go home.”

Tarn was helped to his pedes, the big mech leaning on Krok for a moment as his equilibrium sensors readjusted to being upright. Then he agreed that it was time to go, walking alongside Krok to the ground bridge in the med bay and then into the apartment. When the tank entered, he was shocked to find a data pad shelf had been put in and stacked with data pads Krok had clearly bought for him. Below the shelving was their berth covered in new bedding, the place looking even more inviting than before.

“I thought you should come home to something nice. You can recover with some data pads in a more comfortable berth,” Krok said, leading Tarn over to it and helping him into the softness. “Also I thought you should know the truck died. He suffocated before the medics could do anything about it.”

Tarn smiled, feeling a small flicker of joy. 

“He begged me to kill him, Krok. He wanted to be free. I am glad he found his way out.”

Krok said nothing, turning his gaze away for a moment to compose himself.

“I’m glad you’re still with me. I worried you would bleed out since he went after your neck,” he finally said, glad when Tarn didn’t reply. 

He could imagine then that the tank was happy to be there with him. It was a fantasy, a weak hope, yet Krok clung to it. He hoped someday Tarn would look at him as something different than an owner, but he didn’t have much faith that their relationship would ever be genuine.

“Settle in and I’ll bring you something to eat and some painkillers. You’re covered in new stitches and I’m sure those must hurt.”

“Thank you,” Tarn sighed, sinking into the soft mesh blankets and shuttering his optics. He was home now. He was safe. A part of him felt that he would alway be safe so long as Krok was there and the notion made him smile, the former DJD member quietly starting conversation once the Autobot returned.


	13. Chapter 13

Tesarus was consistently being surprised by Helex and Fulcrum’s behavior. The pair were oddly friendly with each other, acting like everything was completely fine and seemingly forgetting that one of them was a slave. Things weren’t fine! Tesarus had tried to talk Helex out of being complacent, but the smelter had shrugged off his concern and insisted that Fulcrum was as good as he appeared.

Fulcrum was currently gathering the food supplies he had ordered from Krok, leaving Tesarus and Helex in his quarters while he got things sorted out. He thought it would be good for Helex and Tesarus to have some alone time together to talk and settle in. Tess was on edge, which was understandable since he had been abused and just the other day brought into a new space, so a chance to be with someone familiar would do him well.

“Just trust me on this one, Tess. He’s not evil like the others,” Helex assured, patting Tesarus on the back. “He and I do pretty much everything together now. And why wouldn’t I go along with it? I mean, he feeds me and stuff. Only some of it is humiliating and even that I don’t care about anymore. It’s not like we have a choice and this is better than a lot of other options.”

“But Helex, they’re our ‘owners!’ We can’t sit back and let that happen! We have to fight it somehow!” Tesarus growled, armor ruffled in anger as he spoke and worked himself up with thoughts of revolution. Helex once again didn’t seem interested, rolling his optics while he made a soft huff. 

“You can if you want, but I’m not pushing my luck. He actually likes me, Tess,” Helex said, almost sounding as if he were boasting. 

No one had ever really liked him before, even when they had still been together as the DJD. Tarn would give him the time of day and everything, but everyone had always wanted to recharge with Vos or Kaon since they were more attractive. Tarn had liked fragging Tesarus when he was in the mood, but no one ever sought Helex out. He and Tess play wrestled and beat up on each other quite often, but it rarely turned into a sexual encounter, so having someone around who thought he was great and insisted on caring for him was strangely enjoyable.

“You’ve lost it, Helex,” was Tesarus’ response, shaking his head. “He’s brainwashed you!”

“Nah, he’s just being nice. It’s kinda exciting, knowing that somebody isn’t afraid to touch me and all that.”

“Buddy, you’re whacked in the head. I don’t know what that K-Con drugged you with, but it sure worked wonders,” Tesarus said, getting up close and personal to Helex’s faceplate. “Your optics don’t look messed up though. Drugs usually make them look funny.” 

Helex pushed Tesarus back, growling at him. “Shut up and drop it already. He’s not doing anything bad to me or to you, so give him a chance. I did and it worked for me.”

“Because he messed up you mind, that’s why.”

Helex swatted Tesarus and in moments the two of them were wrestling like they used to back when they were free. They laughed as they beat up on one another, tumbling around on the berth and knocking off half the bedding as they tried to gain the upper hand. Helex thought he had won only to be flipped over and pinned, the smelter grinning before he nipped Tesarus’ chin and distracted the other bot long enough to regain some control. 

“You’re a real piece of slag, you know that?” Helex said affectionately as he pushed Tess back into the berth. Tesarus bopped the smelter in his nose and got an undignified yip from the large mech. 

“You too, stupid. For all the brain modules you ate they sure didn’t make you any smarter!”

“Shut it!” 

Helex was about to rough Tesarus up some more when Fulcrum entered the room, having come back to the apartment unheard thanks to the pair’s rowdy antics. He smiled brightly at them both, the tan and orange mech glad to see they were having fun. 

“Did you get food?” Helex asked, optics bright with excitement as he swiftly let Tesarus up. 

“I did! Want to come sample some of it in the living room?”

“Sure. Tess, come on, let’s get stuff to eat.”

Tesarus wasn’t happy that he had been snuck up on, shying away from Fulcrum when the mech came closer. He watched every move the smaller bot made, regarding him hugging Helex…as if he actually /liked/ him. It was a strange sight, Tesarus so unused to such behavior. Crankcase had never hugged him or spoken to him like a real mech. Instead he had been ordered around, shouted at, and otherwise abused. And yet here Fulcrum was, hugging Helex around the neck like one would greet a lover.

“Tesarus, you’re welcome to join. You must be hungry, too, considering that you’re even bigger than Helex here and probably use fuel up in half the time,” Fulcrum said gently, noticing how wary Tesarus was. His X-shaped optics were unique, but they were not unreadable. Plus, the mech’s mouth gave away a great deal of emotion.

“I don’t trust you,” Tesarus snapped, backing up on the berth so he was well out of reach. “I don’t know what you did to make Helex all nice and compliant with you, but it’s messed up. He’s not like that!”

“Hey, I can be whatever I want!” Helex huffed, smacking Tesarus’ upper arm. “Fulcrum is great, but if you’re not ready to see that I can’t make you. C’mon, traitor, let’s go eat.”

The nickname ‘traitor’ had become one of Helex’s ways to show he cared about Fulcrum. It was a strange thing to call someone that you liked, but the smelter wasn’t exactly like normal bots. He was a DJD member and affection often came across strangely. He had been conditioned to forget how to make relationships, how to care for anyone. After all, having empathy during brutal tortures wasn’t a good trait. Only now was he starting to understand what it meant to show tenderness and care.

“Feel free to join us if you change your mind, Tesarus,” Fulcrum offered, staying back to show he wasn’t a threat. Then he walked off with Helex to the living room area of his quarters. There he and the smelter started talking, Helex’s booming laugh thundering into the berthroom at one point.

Tesarus curled up in the blankets, mulling over what he wanted to do. Should he go out there and get involved? How could he when he didn’t trust Fulcrum and had openly admitted it? The K-Con might become angry with him, so maybe staying where he was would be safest…

As Tess thought over everything, Helex and Fulcrum had settled into their usual routine. Helex was sitting on the floor doing a few pet tricks while Fulcrum fed him a multitude of treats. The big smelter licked his lips like a mechanimal when he saw copper chews, waiting for a command.

“Shake,” Fulcrum said, holding out a hand. Helex immediately put his large hand onto Fulcrum’s, staring up at him expectantly. “Good boy!”

Helex took the treat very nicely from Fulcrum’s fingers, making sure to cover the other mech’s hand with oral fluid like an excited canine. This was so stupid, behaving like a pet, but he didn’t fight it. There was a lot worse that could happen to him. So he continued to preform. He begged, he laid down, he rolled over…any trick a mechanimal could do, he could do better.

“Alright, enough of that,” Fulcrum laughed, blushing. He didn’t want to admit that he found it cute when Helex did all his tricks and that the only reason why they continued to train together was because Fulcrum had developed a ‘thing’ for pet play. Just a small thing. A really, /really/ small thing.

That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway.

“One last command,” he said before Helex stood up, the blue and yellow mech chuffing at him to say he was annoyed that they were continuing the game past his interest to participate in it. 

Fulcrum quickly opened his arms and grinned, his faceplate bright and inviting. “Give me a hug, Helex.”

Helex rumbled and got up only so he could tackle Fulcrum in said hug, enveloping the orange and tan bot in his arms before he rolled them onto the floor. He pinned Fulcrum in the gentlest way possible and pressed their foreheads together, purring deeply the entire time. Fulcrum laughed softly, wrapping one arm around the smelter’s thick neck while the other reached up to trace one of the molten red biolights that ran through Helex’s cheek.

“You’re really good at giving hugs, Helex. I think the second pair of arms helps,” Fulcrum murmured, the pad of his thumb petting the side of Helex’s face.

“The extra arms do come in handy for lots of stuff,” he agreed, leaning forward so he could boldly nuzzle Fulcrum’s faceplate with his own. The K-Con felt the heat rolling off of Helex and sighed, enjoying the warmth.

They didn’t speak for the next few moments, instead laying on the floor of the living room in total bliss. Neither of them knew exactly what was going on, but they were clearly happy. Fulcrum gave his companion a squeeze and felt the gesture returned, Helex’s smaller pair of arms holding him tight. Red optics gazed down at golden yellow, the smelter’s audio horns flicking cutely as he touched their noses together. 

“I knew it,” Fulcrum murmured, nuzzling his nose against Helex’s. The former DJD member grunted, tilting his helm in confusion. 

“Knew what?”

“That secretly you’re a massive cuddler.”

“Pfff, like you’ll get to find out! That’s an Autobot thing, being all touchy-feely.”

“Says the mech who just nuzzled all over my face,” Fulcrum laughed, sneaking in a quick kiss to Helex’s nose tip. Helex’s cheeks blushed red hot, the smelter clearing his throat a couple times since he was unsure what to do or say. No one had ever kissed him before, not even something as chaste as that!

“Yeah….well…I’m still mean and terrifying. I used to eat bots brain modules, so I’m not cuddly!”

Fulcrum just laughed and hugged Helex again, wriggling away after that to sit on the couch and take out a data pad. He had some work he needed to do, Helex often dozing at his side while he checked stocks and the Scavenger’s finances. The blue and yellow bot clambered onto the massive couch and draped across it, close to but not overcrowding Fulcrum as he went about his business.

They both pretended to be deeply invested in either their work or their napping, the mechs mulling over what had just happened. Neither could fully make sense of it yet, but they would figure things out soon enough.

Tesarus checked through the doorway to see what the two were up to, not having caught them in their intimate moment. Instead he saw them on the couch, Fulcrum engrossed in accounting while Helex rested contentedly across the couch. It was so domestic, so…perfect…that it made Tesarus feel ever more conflicted. 

He both wanted what they had but also wanted to reject it entirely. Trust and mistrust battled for control before he finally emerged from the doorway and padded closer. Fulcrum looked up when he saw the grinder standing in front of him, shoulders slumped.

“Can I have a bath now? Like the kind you give Helex? He’s been bragging about it,” he asked, figuring that was the best way to break down the walls he had made. The K-Con nodded, putting down his data pad right away. He knew this was a major leap of faith for Tess, considering only one hour ago the mech had declared openly that he didn’t trust him at all. 

“Sure, let’s go get the hot oil running. It takes a little bit to fill up the tub.”

***

Spinister and Kaon had left the apartment to go to the park. Kaon couldn’t see, but he liked to be out in the bustle of the city. Plus, he felt safe when he was with Spinister, sensing the looming aerial close by his side. The teal and magenta mech making sure no one jostled or bumped Kaon as they walked along the sidewalk together.

“Which park would you like to visit today?” he asked, the hold on the leash very light. He only used it because he had to and that Kaon actually felt a bit safer with it on. It acted as a connection between himself and Spinister, so he would tolerate the humiliation of it.

“How about the one with the statues? You were telling me about it the other day but seeing it, well, sensing it, would be pleasant.”

“I’ll lead the way!” 

“Please do.”

The couple made their way across the street undisturbed, eventually walking into the gravel path of the large park. Spinister began describing the statues to Kaon, the blind mech smiling the entire time. He could imagine them all in their artistic glory, his creative mind able to make the most beautiful images thanks to his companion’s attention to detail.

“And there’s a tiny crack that runs up the pede on the left side, and then there’s a bit of light blue lichen resting in one of the ankle seams, and on the indent of the heel there’s a much bigger patch of lichen but this time it’s not blue but green.”

“Thank you, Spinister,” Kaon chuckled, letting the aerial ramble on and on. It was nice to listen to him talk.

But of course he had one of his ‘moments’ and hushed, going tense all over as he anticipated an unseen threat. “Shhh! Someone is watching us, they’re moving through the trees…” he hissed, Kaon seeing Spinister’s energy field flare up and then move as the bot reached for his pistol.  
  “Don’t go around shooting everyone, Spinister,” Kaon scolded, reaching up and deftly pushing down the paranoid mech’s arm. “Leave it. Tell me more about the next statue, yeah?”

Spinister ruffled his armor plating, not sure what was more important. Behaving or shooting something. The something was moving, so it was hard for him to ignore the potential threat. But thankfully for the two femmes walking hand in hand in the distance, they were saved from being shot by Kaon’s gentle prodding for more statue descriptions.

“This second statue is about twelve feet tall. There’s a lot of moss growing around its base…”

The trip to the park was a calm one, the pair leaving only once Spinister’s vocalizer became hoarse from its overuse discussing every inch of the statues. Kaon slid up onto his tip toes and placed a kiss on the aerial’s throat, purring a soft ‘hush, you need to rest your voice,’ before they headed back to their compound of conjoined apartments.

“Someone is following us!” Spinister hissed, whipping around to turn suspicious garnet optics on the empty road behind them. Kaon only sensed two life signatures, one of which was inside the local paint shop and the other simply walking past on the sidewalk.

“Spinister, there isn’t anyone there,” Kaon soothed, taking his owner’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I think it’s your optics playing tricks on you again.”

“Maybe…” Spinister growled, still on edge as he checked the area over once more. Then he continued onward with Kaon, ignoring the tingling sense that someone was watching them. Every time he looked back, he saw no one and ever so slowly dropped his guard.

Once they were back to the apartment, he was glad to fully relax and leap onto the main room’s couch with Kaon. There they could interact with the others if they walked in or out from their private apartments, the pair enjoying the social interactions. 

“Crankcase, where are you heading off to this fine evening?” Spinister asked the moment he saw the grouchy mech leave his room. Crankcase made a face at him, his upper lip curled in annoyance. 

“None of your business.”

“Secrets, secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone!” Spinister sing-songed, getting a pillow from the other couch thrown in his face as Crankcase stomped out of the compound. 

“Shuddup, you’re annoying as all hell.”

“Gooood,” Spinister hissed, narrowly avoiding getting hit with a crushed can of high grade energon Crankcase had just finished. 

Once the other mech had left (slamming the door on the way out, one might add), Spinister nuzzled into the top of Kaon’s helm. “Where do you think he’s off to?”

“Most likely to gamble or get drunk. That’s a beer can he threw at you, I can smell it from here,” Kaon replied, curling a lip. He had never been one for high grade of any kind. 

“He better watch out. Scary things happen out there at night. You can’t see the evil coming,” Spinister said darkly, cuddling up more with Kaon before they continued to watch their holo screen movie.


	14. Chapter 14

Crankcase wanted to go to the bar and relax. He realized that he had a lot of time on his hands now that Tesarus was out of the picture. No more carting off the mech to a medical bay or trying to coax him out of hiding places around the apartment. Plus all the other Scavengers had become very busy with their own pets so he didn’t exactly have a lot of time to talk with them. 

Not that he wanted to, but still. The option to do so wasn’t there.

The blue and yellow mech plodded along down the mostly empty streets towards his favorite bar. It was one of the loudest, drunkest, and most dangerous places he could find. He loved it. He could shout, drink too much, and maybe even start a fight if he wanted to. So he trotted down a side street until he got to the entrance, glad to see there was already a drunk leaning on the side of the building. 

“How crowded is it in there?” Crankase asked, the drunk mech waving a dismissive hand.

“It’s real busy…but the best kind of busy, y’know?”

“Oooh, I know,” Crankcase growled, pushing open the door and shoving his way inside the hot building that reeked of spilled high grade. The tinge of purge was already in air, but Crankcase could deal with that. Having a drink would help dull his olfactory sensors enough so the vomit wouldn’t bother him.

The bar was rowdy as could be, mechs and femmes alike guzzling down their drinks. But Crankcase was surprised to find the loudest commotion was coming from the back room of all places. He quickly ordered a shot of neon high grade, drank it, then walked to where the majority of shouting was coming from. 

“You wanna go watch the fight? They’ve got some real nasty looking pit bots in there,” a mech asked, gesturing with his helm to the door. “They’re getting the pair riled up with a bait mech in a few minutes. Go in and cast a bet!”

“I’ll see if I like the looks of them,” Crankcase grunted, although he had little interest in pit fights. They were not illegal yet, but the sport was very cruel. Tarn had only a day ago gotten into a scrap with one of these trained fighters in the grocery store and from what Krok had described, the battle had been ugly and brutal.

‘Fighting mechanimals. That’s all the Decepticons are now,’ Crankcase thought as he entered the room, surprised with the volume of shouting and roaring from the tightly packed crowd.

The bots who owned the two fighting pets were holding them back by their leashes, the armored trucks snarling at each other from the opposite ends of the ring, one or the other occasionally lurching forward to try and break their leash. The pit was a poorly constructed one made out of metal sheets strapped together in a circle, mechs trying to keep the crude walls from caving in before the pair went after each other. Crankcase frowned, finding absolutely nothing to like about what he saw. 

He had been horrible to Tesarus, but at least he had never made him do this.

Crankcase was about to leave when he was pushed back by an SUV carrying a white and black Seeker in his arms. The Scavenger turned to see where they were going and was shocked to find that the SUV dropped the Seeker right into the middle of the ring. The aerial was disorientated for only a second, the mech shaking himself off before attempting to stand up.

‘I know that bot. It’s Ramjet! Surprising to find him still alive,’ Crankcase thought, not sure what the Seeker was doing in a pit ring against two armored trucks, though. 

Then he remembered what the bot outside had said. They were using a bait mech to get the fighters riled up. 

Ramjet’s shriek tore Crankcase out of his thoughts, the mech watching in horror as one of the armored trucks was released and tore into the Seeker. White armor did not stay white for long, energon soon spraying all over the ring. Ramjet tried to fight back, but he was no match for a trained killing machine equipped with claws and sharpened canine dentas.

“Alright, alright, leave some of him for Timber!” the truck’s owner laughed, leashing his pet and yanking him away from Ramjet’s bloodied frame. One of the Seeker’s wings was hanging on his frame by its joint cabling while his neck and chest were gaping with claw and denta wounds. He was still trying to get up, dragging himself around the pit to try and find an exit.

Timber, the brown and green truck, was let loose to have his fun, the mech snarling and snapping as he shook and tossed the Ramjet around. He was playing with him like a cat would a mouse, toying with the damaged bot as he howled and keened in agony. Once the black and white aerial went silent and no longer moved, Timber was leashed up again and commanded to fight with the other truck.

Crankcase didn’t care to see which of the mechs won, more concerned now with what they were going to do with the Seeker. It was clear that Ramjet was still alive, his sides rising and falling in a ragged form of venting. The SUV who had brought him to the ring dragged Ramjet out, hauling the Seeker back into his arms before hurrying out a door that Crankcase knew led outside. 

‘Maybe they’re going to get him to a med bay. The poor bastard didn’t stand a chance against those trucks,” he thought, leaving the horrors of the fighting ring to follow the SUV and Ramjet outside. Why he did it, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was fate or even Primus steering him in a new direction. 

Crankcase saw no sign of the SUV or Ramjet when he entered the alley, his optics brightening slightly. That was a good sign! Hopefully the aerial’s owner had gone to get his pet repaired and back in working order.

The blue and yellow mech returned to the bar after that, grabbing himself another couple of drinks. He made sure he stayed at a good level of inebriation, not interested in crashing on his drive or walk home. It was better to be smart and avoid getting into too much trouble. 

Three hours passed before Crankcase decided it was time to leave the bar. He finished off the last of his two neon shots and headed out, deciding to avoid the main door since there was a pile of purged energon in front of it. Having no interest in walking through that, the mech returned to the pit fighting room so he could exit out the back. 

The two armored trucks were done with their fight and had been for some time, their owners packing their wounds with gauze and praising them for jobs well done. Amazingly the loser wasn’t being punished, his owner holding the mech’s bloodied helm in his hands. 

“Good boy…you did well,” the SUV murmured, hugging the bot around his neck while one of the onlookers wrapped the truck’s middle with a thick mesh gauze. The truck tugged against the hold on his neck, clearly wanting to bite or retaliate against the unfamiliar hands tending to him. “Nuh-uh, leave it! You have to get patched up, so be still.”

Crankcase turned his gaze away after that, his lips molded into a tight frown. It was surely a never-ending cycle for those pets. Get trained, fight, get repaired, and repeat. Until one of the days an opponent ripped out the main line in their necks, those two armored trucks were likely going to fight for the rest of their lives. It was a sorry existence, but the Decepticons would have done worse to the Autobots had things been different. That’s what Crankcase kept telling himself, anyway.

The mech shook his helm, slipping out the back door. He walked down the alley to get to the main street when he swore he heard a faint whimper. Crankcase tensed up, adrenaline pushing past the high grade fog. Was someone in trouble? Had they just been mugged? Did he need to beat someone up and get into a fight? The mech’s armor ruffled defensively as he tried to locate the sound.

His pedes took him to the back of the alley where there were some waste bins and a few dumpsters. He looked in the first two and saw nothing, checking under them as well to be sure no one was hiding there. Grunting, Crankcase was about to walk off and assume his drunken processor was playing tricks on him when there came another pleading whimper. 

Crankcase stumbled over to the last dumpster, fumbling to open the lid as it had been weighed down with heavy bags of garbage. Throwing them off, Crankcase opened the top and became sober almost instantly. Laying among bags of garbage was the bait mech, Ramjet, the black and white Seeker staring up at him with terrified optics.

“I’ll get you out of there, hang on,” Crankcase heard himself say, feeling numb from the sheer horror of it all. Those mechs inside the bar…they had thrown out a living Cybertronian. They had dumped Ramjet in a fucking dumpster like one might dump a broken toy, his value not enough to merit repairs in their optics. 

Ramjet didn’t even cry out when he was gingerly picked up under the arms, his frame shaking all over. Everything hurt, his whole body alight with pain sensors. He had no idea who was getting him out of the trash, but he was so, so grateful. He tried to talk but his voice wasn’t responding. Ramjet assumed it was simply because he was hoarse from screaming, but in fact his vocalizer had been bitten through by one of the trucks back in the ring. 

“Don’t talk. Save all your energy for recovering,” Crankcase said, trying to sound gruff but coming off as more soft-spoken than usual. “You’ll be okay. I know a medic who’ll fix you.”

Ramjet didn’t reply as he had been told, instead cuddling up against Crankcase’s warm frame as the mech called an emergency ground bridge from Ratchet’s med bay. First Aid answered the call and right away had a bridge open up at Crankcase’s location. The mech bolted through it, hoping he would get there in time for the medics to save Ramjet.

First Aid saw what was coming and quickly commed Ratchet to say it was an emergency, the CMO currently working on repairing Hoist in one of the operating rooms.

-Can it wait, Aid? I’m wrist deep in left vent, so if you can handle it…-  
-Crankcase just brought in Ramjet from some awful trauma! He’s covered in energon and his wing is hanging off his back!- First Aid yelped, speaking over the com as he rolled a medical cot over to Crankcase. -Are you sure you can’t help?-

-When I’m done here, First Aid. You know how to repair a bot, so put that training to work until I get there-

“Is he your pet?” he asked aloud, shocked at what he was seeing. “What happened to him?!”

“He’s not mine, no,” Crankcase said, watching as Ramjet slumped onto the cot after being set down upon it. “He was used as a bait mech for a pit fight. One of those classic back alley rings. They used him to rile up the two main fighters and then…Aid, they dumped him in a dumpster out back and I just found him now, about three hours after I saw them take him away.”

First Aid wanted to cry, the pacifist in him hating the entire story. Fighting mechs in pits, using a helpless bot as bait for cruel gladiatorial sport, then throwing said bait mech into the trash after? It was all too disgusting to fully take in!

“What’s your name, sweetie?” First Aid asked, gently removing a nearly torn off collar from a bloody neck to see if he could find a designation. On the tag it read ‘Ramjet’ and he felt his energon tank sink. He hadn’t even recognized the Seeker since his white plating was so drenched in purple-pink energon. “Crankcase, I’ll need to keep Ramjet here overnight, possibly longer with all the damage he has.”

“That’s fine. I mean, he’s not mine so…I don’t know what you want to do with him,” Crankcase said, surprised when he heard Ramjet keen, the sound broken and scratchy. The Seeker clearly didn’t like the idea of being rejected by the Scavenger.

“He seems to want you to come back for him, though!” First Aid said softly, getting an energon transfusion prepped after hooking Ramjet up to an IV and sedative drip. The Seeker’s labored venting calmed as he drifted off into forced recharge, First Aid scurrying around him to attach monitors and assess the damages better. “Will you at least come see him when he’s better? He’ll be able to talk to you then.”

Crankcase grunted, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine, fine. I’ll come back when he’s recovered and conscious. From there I guess I’ll decide whether or not I want to keep him.”

After that Crankcase decided it was time to leave, the mech saying a fast goodbye to First Aid as two assistants came over to help stabilize Ramjet. The blue and yellow mech walked back to the compound alone with only his thoughts, debating long and hard about what he wanted to do. The prospect of starting over with a new pet was tempting, but he wasn’t sure he could get away with it. Pharma had yelled at him after what had happened with Tesarus, so he half expected the jet to call First Aid and say he couldn’t take Ramjet. That was one of the reasons why he hadn’t taken the mech to Pharma’s clinic, not wanting to have the bot confiscated right from the start. 

He got back to his quarters and climbed into his berth, tired from the high grade and the events he had witnessed. He already felt a headache coming on, too, so he forced himself to get up one last time and drink some regular grade energon to beat back an impending hangover. Once that was done, the mech slumped right back into his berth and passed out, waiting to see what the next morning would bring.

 

***

Crankcase got a call the next afternoon that Ramjet was doing much better, the mech having been patched up and given two energon transfusions before he was considered stable. Once he wasn’t in danger of dying, First Aid and the other medics had done all that they could to clean and stitch up the Seeker’s other wounds. 

-He’ll be so happy to see you, Crankcase!-

-I’ll be over in a few minutes. Don’t rush me- the Scavenger griped, not allowing himself to get excited about this. He was probably not going to take the mech home, so he didn’t intend to get his hopes too high.

Crankcase told none of the others that he was leaving, simply heading out of his quarters and into the shared space of the compound. There he typed in the coordinates he wanted into their private ground bridge and stepped through. In a second he was inside the med bay waiting room, glad to be ushered in to the recovery ward soon after.

First Aid spotted him and waved, beckoning Crankcase over. “He’s very lucky, you know. If it hadn’t been for his collar blocking the main lines of his neck, he would have bled out. That and the fact that it was cold last night helped stop the energon flow from all his gashes. Any hotter and he would have died within the hour. Energon bleeds faster in warmer climates.”

First Aid walked them past rows of full recovery cells to one near the back of the large rom. “Also we fitted him with a new collar and updated medical tag. Now he’s ready for a forever home!”

“I never said I was going to take him, Aid,” Crankcase rumbled, not wanting to get pushed into anything. “Don’t assume I want him.”

“You will after you see him. He’s been very nice since he woke up.”

Ramjet heard someone coming towards his cell and perked up as best a partially drugged bot could. His wings were sore, but the moment he saw the red and white medic kneel down to look at him, he flicked the appendages to say he was happy to see him. Then he shuffled very slowly to the bars and purred, his dark gray faceplate close to the bars. The cell bars didn’t bother him, the mech so used to cages by that point that he had no fear of being confined anymore.

Unlike some of the bots in the recovery room who fussed about being trapped, that was all Ramjet had known since being bought from auction. His previous owner had always left him in a cage unless he wanted to show him off. The only time he had truly been out of his prison was last night at the bar. The mech had never seen it coming when he was dumped in the pit to be torn up by fighting mechs. 

“Hello, Ramjet! You have a visitor!” First Aid’s cheerful voice announced, the Seeker curious as to who it might be.

“Who is it?” he asked, although there was no need to answer once he saw the bot. 

An excited whine escaped him before he could help it, his wings flaring as low and as wide to his sides as they possibly could go. It was Seeker language to say he was both submissive but also extremely thrilled to see his rescuer. More whines and Seeker trills followed, Ramjet pressing his frame against the bars to try and get closer.

“You saved me!” he declared, not feeling any discomfort in his frame now. “You’re the bot who took me out of the trash bin!”

“I guess I am, yeah,” Crankcase said, a little taken aback at how affectionate the Seeker was. He had expected the mech to lash out, to want to fight, but instead he was a melted puddle of sweetness. 

“I’ll be a really good pet if you take me with you! I’ll do anything you want since I owe you my life. Please, /please/ take me home so he can’t. I don’t want to go back to a fighting ring,” he begged, the fear Crankcase expected finally flooding into the Seeker’s yellow optics. 

Crankcase didn’t say a word, instead he slid a few fingers between the bars of the cage and lightly pet between the Seeker’s should seam, feeling his cold spark shudder with a tinge of warmth as Ramjet crooned joyfully at the contact. He wasn’t scared of his touch like Tesarus had been. Ramjet saw him as a rescuer, a hero, a protector.

“You were right, First Aid. I’m taking him home,” Crankcase said, trying to hide a glimmer of a smile when Ramjet trilled with joy. 

It felt good to have a second chance. Both of them needed it.


	15. Chapter 15

Crankcase carried Ramjet out of the med bay wrapped in a blanket, the Seeker positively overjoyed to be going somewhere safe. He cuddled right up against Crankcase, his golden yellow optics gazing up at his rescuer’s faceplate. His frame hurt like crazy, but he hardly noticed the pain when they entered a clean yet clearly lived in compound, Crankcase hurrying them through the shared living space and into his private apartment. 

“Alright, you. We’re home,” Crankcase announced, taking Ramjet to the spacious berth and laying him down. “I’ll get you something to eat. First Aid said you’re malnourished.”

“My previous owner didn’t remember to feed me sometimes,” Ramjet admitted, sighing when he rested his helm on the berth. It was so soft and warm, those simple comforts having been denied to him since he was captured three weeks ago. It was sad, but Ramjet had almost forgotten what it was like to sleep in a berth.

“He didn’t forget, he was probably trying to starve you into submission,” Crankcase griped, returning with a full mechanimal bowl of energon gel cubelettes. On the top he had sprinkled silver shavings mixed with Ramjet’s painkillers. First Aid had mentioned how the Seeker wasn’t too keen on them in pill form since they didn’t taste good.

Ranjet’s undamaged wing perked up cutely when he spotted the food, the healing wing remaining drooped limply on the bedding. He knew better than to move it around or even try, the delicate wiring and sensors there needing stillness to heal well. But the scent of food urged Ramjet to move closer to the edge of the berth, the bot surprised when he suddenly found Crankcase firmly holding him back as he himself on the berth. He then held the bowl out to him, making sure it was at a good level for the Seeker.

“Eat it slowly. Don’t want you purging on my berth,” Crankcase growled, although his gruff tone wasn’t mean.

Ramjet didn’t listen. How could he when he was starving?! The Seeker shoved his faceplate into the bowl and began hoarking down the fuel like he had never seen the stuff before. His collar tag jingled as he ate, Crankcase trying at one point to pull the bowl away as he worried the black and white bot would make himself ill or cause his energon tank to twist from the sudden influx of food. He was rewarded for his efforts by a snarl and a good bite to his hand, his collar giving Ramjet a corrective shock for that. The Seeker hissed at the feeling but didn’t give up his fuel for a second, insisting on finishing the entire thing and licking the bowl clean before he let Crankcase take it away.

“Sorry…about the whole biting thing. I don’t know why that happens sometimes,” Ramjet purred, now as sweet as could be again. 

He sunk down onto his side and leaned his back against Crankcase, calm and languid. The Seeker wasn’t aggressive, but he certainly made it clear trying to take food away would not go over lightly. Crankcase reached down to pet the mech’s cone helm and rub between his wings, causing what started as soft purring to turn into loud thrumming.

“I can take a bite or two. It’s food possession, I read about that in my pet training book. Bots that get starved all react like that at some point. But once you don’t feel as neglected I’m sure it’ll pass,” Crankcase said, stroking along the expanse of a warm Seeker wing. The appendage vibrated slightly under his touch, pressing harder into his palm.

 

“Dunno about that. I like to bite,” Ramjet snickered, rolling almost all the way onto his back so he could grin at Crankcase. The Scavenger laughed before he could help it, the barking chuckle surprising him. He hadn’t laughed in months.

“So you’re a kinky bastard, huh? You Seekers are full of it,” Crankcase growled with more affection than he thought he was capable of, lightly roughing up the sides of Ramjet’s helm like one might play with a mechanimal canine. Ramjet snort-laughed at that, trying to mouth at his owner’s hands again.

“We’re pretty fun, yeah. But I don’t know about grounders, though. Do you think you’ll be able to keep up with me? You took on a lot because I’m pretty damn amazing,” the black and white mech asked, rolling onto his side again so Crankcase could continue petting his back.

“‘Course I can! You think I’m an old grouch, but sometimes us older mechs know how to do things right!” Crankcase snickered, patting Ramjet’s side. “But right now you need to settle down and get some rest. You’re recovering from some pretty bad wounds.”

“Pff, I can’t even feel them! I’m fine,” Ramjet insisted, good wing smacking up against the other mech. “Let’s watch the holo screen or something. I haven’t done that in forever!” 

“Stubborn thing, aren’t you? You’re just lucky the painkillers are kicking in.”

“You would want me around if I wasn’t a bit of an aft?” 

“Probably not.”

“Then it’s working out well form me!” Ramjet laughed, the painkillers that had been mixed into his food already helping to dull the aches that had come creeping back since he had been set down in the berth. “Thanks again for saving me and all. I’d have hated to die in a fragging dumpster. I deserve better than that!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t drink enough to ignore the whimpers. Primus, you were a mess when I got to you. It’s good to see that white plating of yours again, even if you’ve got stitches under half of it. First Aid had no idea who you were when I first carried you in since you were essentially pink.”

“Aww, c’mon, I’m one of the Coneheads! He’d have to know me!” Ramjet huffed, his undamaged wing suddenly drooping. “Have you seen Dirge or Thrust around by any chance? I want to know if they’re okay.”

“I haven’t see them, but I’ll look into it for you.”

“Thanks a million…uh…what’s your name, again?” 

“Crankcase.”

“Thanks a million, Crankcase.”

Crankcase simply patted the other mech’s back and continued to pet him in places he knew hadn’t been stitched up, the pair settling in to watch a movie before dinner. Ramjet became quite groggy after the drugs fully took effect, his heavy head lolling onto the pillows as he slipped off into recharge. Crankcase smiled when he heard soft snoring start up, glad the other bot was resting like he should be. 

He shifted on the berth and got a loose blanket, draping it over the Seeker’s frame and tucking him in. The mech also made sure to adjust Ramjet’s collar so it wouldn’t bother him in his nap, loosening it slightly. Ramjet remained asleep the entire time, absolutely docile and controlled. Crankcase rubbed his helm, not sure what he had done to deserve this. 

After his mistreatment of Tesarus, he found himself with a rare breed Seeker who was friendly and almost as snarky as he was. It didn’t seem right to him that he should be given something so good, but he knew at least this time he wouldn’t ruin it. Primus worked in mysterious ways, it seemed. 

Life might be good after all. 

***

Tesarus wasn’t sure if he should be doing this, but he was already in the wash rack and didn’t want to back out now. Fulcrum seemed as nice as Helex insisted he was, but this trusting thing wasn’t something Tess was good at. He never had been, but after being captured and made into a slave he certainly wasn’t going to learn how to put his faith in others. 

“So…you and Helex do this a lot?”

“Every other day! It’s a routine now and it helps us get to know each other better,” Fulcrum said, cheerful as could be. “I wanted to show him I wouldn’t cause harm and grooming one another is a very intimate thing. Once he realized I wasn’t the enemy, we’ve been good friends ever since.”

“You can’t be friends with him! He’s wearing a fragging slave collar!” Tesarus snapped, his armor flaring. It made him look twice as big and Fulcrum flinched at the display. “You’re lying to him and making him think you’re equals, but you’ll always be better so long as he wears the collar.”

“I never wanted this to be what our world turned into, Tesarus, but when all the Neutrals returned our voices got covered in the crowd. They didn’t feel safe with former Decepticons walking around free, so…this was what they figured out. First they tried I.D chips but collars worked a whole lot better for their cruel plans.”

“Whatever, shut up and start washing me off. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Tesarus snapped, in a surly mood. His collar felt heavier on his neck now and his resentment at Helex for liking Fulcrum was making it hard to enjoy the offer of someone preening him.

Tesarus waited until the oil had filled the tub enough and then stepped in. He shuddered at the warmth of it, relishing how good it felt. The grinder sighed and plopped himself down, his expression softening slightly. Turning off the oil with his massive hand, he waited expectantly for Fulcrum to start. 

“You gonna do something?”

“I want to make sure you’re feeling comfortable with this,” Fulcrum said, showing his empty hands. “I don’t want to hurt you, so if anything feels bad, let me know. I will respect your boundaries one hundred percent.”

“I’m fine, just wash me off already! And pick the grit out of my back if you can. I don’t have a chance in hell of reaching it.”

Fulcrum was expecting some adverse reactions when he touched Tesarus, so he was ready for it when the larger mech recoiled at the hand on his back and moved well out of reach. Once he was huddled up in a corner of the tub, his X shaped optics watched Fulcrum like a hawk. He knew nothing had hurt from that brief contact, but he was still nervous about it. 

The K-Con smiled at him to say he was safe, holding out a hand and simply waiting for Tesarus to come back. He was a patient mech and wouldn’t force Tesarus to move on any time but his own. Tess appreciated it, glad he could take a few moments to collect himself before he inched back across the tub to where Fulcrum could continue. 

“Sorry,” he grunted, folding his arms defensively across his chest. 

“It’s fine, Tesarus. I can wait as long as you need me to.”

The orange and tan bot placed his hand on Tesarus’ back again and was pleased when the mech didn’t pull away. He tensed, but didn’t become too upset. So Fulcrum began to wash him down just like he would with Helex. The smaller mech scrubbed out dirt and rocks that Tesarus couldn’t reach on his own and smiled as he worked. They were making progress.

“That must feel a little better now, huh?” he asked, patting Tesarus’ shoulder to say his back was done. “Would you like me to clean off your helm, too?”

“Sure, just watch the optics.”

Fulcrum was careful, rubbing cleanser into the other mech’s seams until it foamed and removed excess grime. Tesarus had started to rumble quietly, his helm leaning back into Fulcrum’s hands. He was feeling better than he had in weeks and hated to admit it was all because of Fulcrum. The bot had a way with grooming and he could see now why Helex was so fond of him. Fulcrum certainly was not the enemy, just as Helex had promised.

How could an Decepticon traitor be so gentle and kind? It made Tesarus even angrier about Crankcase. He could have been spared all his abuse and had this kind of owner, yet he had been dumped with a mech who had raped him and caused all sorts of bad habits afterwards. It wasn’t fair! He grit his dentas, glad when Fulcrum mentioned how dirty the oil was and that Tesarus should probably come out and get dried off. 

The grinder rose out of the tub and carefully exited onto a towel spread across the floor, surprised when Fulcrum started to dry him off with a bright smile on his face. The K-Con, the coward who hadn’t done his job, looked so damn happy in his mission to make /him/ feel better, that Tesarus finally broke down and lost it.

“Tesarus?” Fulcrum asked when he heard the big mech hiccup, the sound very close to a sob…

“It’s not fair! Why did Helex get you and I got someone who ruined me?! Helex and I were both awful and yet he got to be cared for by you and I got to be raped and hated and…and…frag this!”

Fulcrum dropped the towel he had been holding, not sure what he had done to trigger the such a visceral reaction from the grinder. It probably wasn’t physical touch, sensing this was some kind of emotional trauma bleeding through the mech’s outwardly tough facade. Taking the risk, Fulcrum stepped closer and hugged Tesarus around his massive frame.

“You’re part of my little family now, so let’s try to make new memories together! I’ll help you work through the bad times and I’m sure Helex will, too. We’re all recovering from our own personal hurts, Tesarus, but we’re not alone anymore in our healing.”

“You better not be lying,” Tesarus sniffled, another tiny hiccup escaping. “I’ll find a way to kill you if you’re full of slag.”

“I’m not, I promise,” Fulcrum assured, taking up the towel he had dropped to rub dry the grinder’s now bladeless middle and upper chest. “You’re safe here.”

Tesarus hugged Fulcrum tight, shaking as he silently cried. This was what he needed. Recovery didn’t mean tearing off his armor plating and making himself bleed. He didn’t need pain to block out the memory surges from the rape. He just needed someone like this and a friend like Helex who would have his back. A family…the word Fulcrum had said was so surreal, so utopian. He had never believed he’d have a family again. Tesarus thought sometimes he had one before he had been turned into a grinder, but the vague world of his other life was distant and cut off to him.

He bowed his head and took a deep invent, glad his optics didn’t have the function to fully cry anymore. They didn’t produce washer fluid as they were so different from what was typical for Cybertronians.

“Do you want to watch a movie while I finish my accounting? Or maybe we should prepare something for dinner? It’s already coming around to that time again,” Fulcrum said, trying to make things normal for Tess so he didn’t feel awkward. The grinder appreciated it, ruffling his armor. 

“I’m good with a movie.”

He took the damp towel from Fulcrum and folded it up, setting it back on the ring to dry before they both exited the wash rack, leaving dirty oil to drain in a lazy spiral from the tub behind them.


	16. Chapter 16

Tarn never felt so bad in his life. His damage he had sustained from the fight in the grocery store was sore and nagging, the tank trying to stay silent about it and go back to sleep. It was late and Krok was clearly exhausted from tending to him, the leader of the Scavengers passed out in a heap on the berth next to his pet. Tarn sighed, leaning over to nuzzle the Krok’s cheek.

None of what had happened was his fault, even though the mech was convinced it was. The fight had been about Tarn trying to make sense of the new life he lived. He wasn’t upset with Krok, but he was furious with the system. No one should ever make a living Cybertronian into their pet, even if they were the most kind and gentle owner the world had ever seen. It simply wasn’t right.

Tarn whined softly, the protoflesh on his faceplate aching from the stitches while other areas on his frame itched and tugged uncomfortably. He wanted more pain medications so he could be knocked out and not feel any of it.

“Krok,” he murmured, pressing his nose up under his master’s jaw. “Wake up. I need painkillers,” he groaned, hoping the other mech would help him out. 

Krok shifted in his recharge, stretching out before his optics unshuttered. He reached up a hand and lightly pet Tarn’s nape, assuring him that he would go get the pills. Exhausted, Krok slid out of the berth and shuffled over to the wash rack where he was currently keeping the medicine. He didn’t want to leave it out where Tarn might self diagnose when the pain became too much and potentially take too much. Tarn was highly intelligent, but pain made even the smartest mechs do strange things.

“Here you go, Tarn,” Krok said softly, rolling back into the berth after handing over the pills and falling right back into recharge. Tarn thanked him, taking the medication right away. Then he curled up protectively around Krok, the tank not yet sleeping but mulling over his situation.

Tarn felt Krok roll over and snuggle into him, their fronts pressed together. It made the other mech smile, a low purr rumbling forth from his chest. Krok wasn’t evil. He was trying his best to make an upsetting situation not so bad. Tarn had to hand it to him, he appreciated the care and love the other mech offered even if he didn’t think he could ever fully reciprocate.

‘Sleep well, Krok,’ he thought, silently bowing his helm until his forehead pressed against Krok’s, the pair soon asleep and at peace.

***

Spinister knew something was wrong. He just knew it. The aerial sat bolt upright in the berth and shook Kaon awake, venting in loud puffs. He was clearly agitated, getting himself riled up into an ‘episode’ as everyone liked to call it. 

“Kaon! Kaon, wake up! Something is here with us!” he hissed, his gun already locked and loaded. His finger rubbed neurotically across the trigger, his optics flicking nervously around the room. It was dark, but he could sense things were not well.

“Spinister…stop it, we’ve done this twice tonight already!” Kaon groaned, not wanting to be disturbed again from his recharge to settle down an extremely paranoid helicopter. Those kind of mechs were never fully sane it seemed, their CNA carrying quite a few different genes than other types. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Kaon had never encountered a fully sane helicopter.

“No, this is /real,/ Kaon. Something is wrong and it’s getting into the compound!” Spinister panted, leaping up out of the berth and starting to inspect their room. “I’ll make sure it can’t get us.”

He peered out the windows and checked the door multiple times, wanting to be sure everything was secure and that they were safe inside. His rotor blades were flared out in a display of aggression, the mech clearly upset and convinced that he was on to something. Kaon sighed, rolling out of the berth so he could collect Spinister and bring him back to the berth. 

“Want me to take your mind off it?” he purred, a hand sliding between Spinister’s legs. The aerial whined, shifting from pede to pede. He wanted it, yes, but he wasn’t sure he should frag around when something might be looming dangerously close by. “Spinister, it’ll be good for you to work off some tension.”

“I have to be sure we’re all safe. Kaon, I feel that someone is out there looking at us!”

“Then let’s give them a show they won’t forget,” Kaon chuckled, his smile sultry and inviting as he clambered back onto the berth. His valve cover snicked back, the puffy protoflesh visible in the dim outside light filtering through the windows. “Come here, take your worries away on me, yeah?”

Spinister caught his companion’s scent in the air, the musky yet metallic, and knew he couldn’t say no. They didn’t do this often, so when the offer was put out there Spinister had to take advantage of it. The helicopter sprang back onto the berth and pounced on Kaon, getting a soft laugh out of the smaller bot. 

“You remind me of Helex sometimes. He’s big but he always used to tackle Tess when they got down to business.”

“You’re pretty,” Spinister sighed, nuzzling all over Kaon’s face. It was both an affectionate and possessive gesture, the mech marking the other with his scent but offering as much sweetness as he could. As he nuzzled he assumed the right position, his spike springing free of his panel. “Keep an optic out for danger though. There is always danger out there.”

“I’ll tell you if I see anythi-aaahhhggn, ooohhh frag, Spinister!” Kaon gasped, feeling an already stiff spike push between his valve folds. There was some mild resistance since his valve wasn’t fully lubricated yet, so the initial mounting burned and tugged a tiny bit. “Easy…don’t go too fast,” he begged, feeling the helicopter push deeper still. 

Spinister pulled back his battle mask to captured Kaon in a kiss, asserting his dominance over the smaller bot. He growled quietly into the kiss as well, his hips giving a few jerks as he sheathed his spike deeper into silken heat. One final hump got a muffled wail out of Kaon and fully seated Spinister, the helicopter shuddering slightly as he pulled away from the kiss. 

“Kaon, I love you lots,” he sighed, peppering the bot’s face with kisses. Kaon was panting open mouthed, the pressure and pleasure of his companion’s spike absolutely glorious. He returned the kisses when he could, wrapping his arms around Spinister’s strong neck.

“I love you, too. Now I want you to pound me into the berth so you get tired enough to sleep. Got it?”

“Yessir,” Spinister snickered, nipping Kaon’s throat cabling before he started up a good pace. His hips moved in and out, in and out, the helicopter grunting and huffing as he coupled with the bot he considered to be his mate. Kaon gasped and mewled, positively gorgeous as he was pounded firmly into the berth.

Their frames fit together, the dull clangs and scrapes of their groins and hips making the room feel less terrifying to Spinister, the mech losing himself in the pleasure and affection of his lover. Kaon was his world. If he had never met him, he didn’t even know where he’d be doing now. He fucked the other mech harder to signal he would never let anyone have him. The mech who had tortured hundreds, dumped them in unmarked graves, and tried to kill Spinister himself, was always going to be loved and protected by the helicopter. 

Kaon was moaning much louder now, Spinister’s increased speed and power hitting all the right spots. His valve was being pummeled and he loved it, the breeding organ rubbing across sensor arrays over and over again. He even felt the sharp tip prick his gel wall at one point, crying out with need when he felt the pain sharply through the pleasure. 

“Spinister…oooohh, hnnnggggg, just like that! Yes!” he demanded, the helicopter curling tightly over his frame and rutting hard. 

Spinister suddenly bit down on Kaon’s neck and triggered the smaller mech’s overload, his valve clamping down hard around the invading spike and pulling it deeper as a small rush of lubricant dribbled out around it. Spinister’s thrusts were now hard, deep, and a bit jerky, the mech drooling around Kaon’s throat as he pinned him firmly. 

His final thrust made him arch over Kaon, the tip of his spike piercing through the gel wall before the organ engorged with energon at the base and created a tight knot. Within a second they were locked together, then Spinister released. Transfluid spilled forth from his spike into an awaiting gestation chamber, pumping Kaon full of his seed. Kaon squealed when the pinch at his gel wall had occurred and kicked slightly with one of his legs, swiftly getting pinned down and bitten harder for his struggles. He gasped at the intense pressure and heat between his thighs, feeling every spurt of Spinister’s transfluid enter him. 

It didn’t seem to end, either. Spinister unloaded a great deal into his mate, Kaon’s once slim middle bumping out slightly from the sudden increase of fluids. He lay still and waited for Spinister to finish, the mech’s jaws clamped tight at his neck still. Only when he felt Spinister shudder a few times and then release him did Kaon ask for some kisses. 

“Spinister, you…we…this means sparklings!” he exclaimed, feeling his gestation chamber was taut now, the transfluid not having any room to slosh around.

“I know! We’ll have a family. You and me,” Spinister purred, licking off the few pricks of energon he had made from biting too hard on Kaon’s throat. “Only if you want to, though. We can drain it tomorrow if you really don’t like the idea. I came up with it during the rut,” he added, sounding proud that he had thought of such a good plan.

Kaon grunted when the helicopter shifted and caused the spike tie to tug at his now tender valve, Spinister moving enough so one of his hands could rub the little bump he had made. Kaon also reached a hand down to feel the slight roundedness in his lower middle, smiling when he felt Spinister’s hand close around his. 

“I want to,” he decided, laughing quietly when Spinister wrapped him up tight in a hug. 

“We’ll have a good life. I love you to little bits, Kaon.”

And with that said, Spinister took off Kaon’s collar. He spun it around so he could use the fingerprint scanner to unlock it, the leather and metal prison falling away from Kaon’s frame. The electric chair couldn’t believe it, his empty optic sockets huge. 

“You….why….Spinister?” he whispered, feeling like he was about to cry even if his optics didn’t allow for such a thing. 

“You’re not a pet. You’re my mate,” Spinister said, nuzzling Kaon’s cheeks.

For a brief moment Kaon realized he could kill Spinister, the thought flashing through his head at a breakneck pace. He could save the others! He could kill the helicopter, destroy the other Scavengers, and get everyone to freedom! But then he sensed how much overwhelming love Spinister had for him, how much the helicopter /trusted/ him when he trusted no one else, and knew he could never hurt the other mech.

He loved him to little bits, too, damn it!

“Thank you,” he whispered gratefully, the pair relaxing together as they waited for the tie to go down and Spinister’s spike become flaccid. It was currently stiff as a rod, pulsing and twitching as it remained lodged inside Kaon. 

The couple were nuzzling and kissing each other when Spinister heard it. The sound was so quiet no one other than him would have been able to pick up on where it was, but it was the fourth floor board on the west side of the compound right outside the opposite apartment to theirs. The helicopter’s rotor blades flared in panic, his optics huge. He was tied to Kaon and couldn’t do a thing, the smaller mech hissing and whining when he got dragged around by the spike locked inside him.

“Spinister, what’s going on? You’re hurting me!” Kaon demanded, seeing his mate was wearing an expression of genuine terror. 

“Someone’s after our team!” he yelped, sending a desperate com to the rest of the Scavengers that they needed to wake up. 

Someone was in their compound.

***

Fulcrum was laying on the edge of the berth, Tesarus pressed against the far wall with Helex in between. The smelter’s warmth was always shared when they recharged in a pile, the three mechs tired and well fed from their dinner. It had been amazing, really, Tesarus cracking some nasty but amusing jokes while Helex bitched and moaned about having to put Tess in his place later on. The pair had wrestled more and slapped each other around while Fulcrum watched, the two wearing themselves out and promptly curling up in bed.

Fulcrum had followed them soon after, taking up the last available space on the mattress and passing out. He felt like things were going really well now, wondering how long it would last. Good things didn’t often remain good for long, at least not in his experience. He rolled over onto his other side so he was pressed into Helex’s frame, the smelter snoring up a storm.

That’s when he felt someone grab him around the throat. He didn’t have a chance to make a sound, only kicking Helex lightly on the lower thigh as he was dragged out of the berth. Helex rumbled in his sleep, annoyed at being kicked as he shifted to a better position. Fulcrum fought whoever was dragging him off, grabbing desperately at the strong hand around his neck, yet stopping the second he felt a gun pressed to the side of his helm.

Another shadowy figure was now standing at the side of the berth, the mech trying to get an aim on Helex. So far they hadn’t realized Tesarus was also in the berth, Helex currently draped over the top of the grinder. Fulcrum struggled harder, realizing whoever these people were, they wanted to kill Helex. /His/ Helex. 

“You thought you’d get away with letting your disgusting pet kill Burn Out, didn’t you? Krok, you’re one stupid bastard if you thought I wouldn’t get you back,” a voice hissed in Fulcrum’s audio receptor, the K-Con absolutely confused. 

“I’m…Fulcrum! Krok…isn’t here! That’s…that’s Helex!” he choked out, his throat squeezed harder. He felt nauseous, getting close to passing out as his airway became too constricted and the energon lines to his head pressed too harshly on. 

“What?!”

Fulcrum took the moment of his attacker’s confusion and used it to his advantage. He threw his full weight against the other bot and knocked them both to the floor, the mech’s gun going off and waking Tesarus and Helex with a start. The bot who was supposed to be dispatching Helex fired off two wild shots, clearly surprised that there were two bots instead of one in the berth. One of the shots earned a roar of pain from Helex, the smelter sounding more furious than badly damaged though.

“Helex! Tesarus! Get out of here or fight, they’re trying to kill you!” Fulcrum screamed, the mech who had ahold of him slamming his helm into the floor to shut him up. 

“I think I’ll kill you while we’re at it!” the SUV from the grocery store hissed, grabbing his gun and firing right at Fulcrum’s head. 

Helex was terribly confused and one of his larger arms had been shot, the appendage bleeding all over as he scrambled to get off the berth. His optics focused desperately in the dark room to find Fulcrum, his voice having come from the far end of the room before the gunfire rang out. The smelter saw a flash of light and the barrel of the discharged gun aimed right at Fulcrum’s helm, the smelter letting out a bellow of pure rage. 

“Tess, rip them apart!” he snarled, charging forward to defend Fulcrum.

He hurled himself at the SUV, the mech’s attempts at shooting him all going astray. The smelter tackled the mech, growling when his face was bashed by the butt of the gun. The SUV punched him hard in the jaw too, the pair vying for control before Helex ripped one of the mech’s arms clean off. The assassin started screaming while the bot Tesarus had taken on went running. 

The figure hurtled towards the door they had come in, making it almost through when he slammed into something blocking it. Recoiling on the floor, he was stunned to see Misfire and Vos both standing over him with guns, the mech throwing his hands up in defeat. 

“Call the pet off!” he begged, watching as the hulking form of Tesarus came barreling down on them. 

“Tess, we’ve got him! Make sure Helex and Fulcrum are okay!” Misfire ordered, glad when the grinder did as he was told. 

Across the room, Helex was mauling the SUV ten times worse than what Tarn had done to Burn Out. Armor pieces went flying, Helex essentially flaying the other alive. Once he had torn away as much as he could, he grabbed the mech’s helm and twisted it off, ripping it and the spinal strut free before he cracked open the skull and tore out the brain module. He popped it into his mouth and ripped it apart like a beast, energon spattering all over the floor and the limp frame of the dead SUV.

Once he was sure the enemy was dead (having bashed the headless body into the floor a few times and ripping out the spark casing from the corpse), Helex went to find Fulcrum. The mech was still alive, gasping for air as he twitched and jerked on the floor. Helex was at his side in moments, the big mech trying to cradle him.

“Fulcrum, I killed him for you,” he said, sounding so quiet and scared despite what he had just done. Fulcrum was dying, the bullet having missed his head but instead biting into his neck and the main line there. “Fulcrum, don’t die…please?”

Fulcrum gagged and coughed, his vents sounding wet with energon. Helex was shaking all over, overwhelmed with emotion as others started to rush into the room and the lights turned on. Krok was there barking orders, but all Helex could hear were Fulcrum’s dying gasps. The mech was drowning in his own energon.

Then he felt the mech’s weak, shaky hands reach up and take his collar, pressing a thumb into the lock scanner. With what seemed like a deafening thump, the collar fell away, landing on the bloody floor near Helex’s leg. Fulcrum tried to smile, meeting Helex’s gaze. 

“N-now…you….you’re…..fr—ee…”

Krok was shouting for Ratchet to come to the emergency scene, Helex still holding Fulcrum up with one of his big hands. He didn’t want Fulcrum to lay down or else the energon would fully pool in his vents and kill him. Thankfully the CMO was there in seconds, trying to take Fulcrum away from Helex. The smelter growled and snapped when anyone tried to pull Fulcrum away, Helex’s armor flared to its fullest extent.

 

“Who took his collar off?! Damn it, Fulcrum, we can’t control them when they don’t have collars!” Ratchet spat, grabbing the fallen device and risking his life to clip it back on Helex’s neck as Krok dragged Fulcrum out from under the brute’s hulking, protective form. “Alright, take him to med bay!”

“Helex is hurt, too,” someone called, probably Misfire as he was closest to Helex’s damaged arm. 

“I’ll come back for him once your friend here is stabilized. Also call the Enforcers to take away the assassin garbage and whatever’s left of the body,” Ratchet said before he was gone through the emergency medical ground bridge with Fulcrum in his arms. 

Helex was at a loss, having been freed and enslaved in the span of minutes and now left without Fulcrum. He hadn’t realized he had lost so much energon because after a little more time passed the brute felt his vision begin to cloud over with black spots. The moment the first Enforcer came through the door, Barricade taking in the scene with a hand on his gun, Helex slumped over and passed out, the shouting and voices around him fading out into nothingness.


	17. Chapter 17

Helex remained passed out for only a few minutes, the Enforcers moving through the room to see what had exactly happened after securing the living assassin. The jet was petrified, Tesarus looming darkly nearby. He was thankfully more intent on protecting Helex than continuing his attack on the assassin though, sitting next to his buddy until he woke up. So when the smelter unshuttered his optics, the first bot he saw was Tesarus.

“Fulcrum? Where’d they take him?” he demanded, not sure what had happened to the other.

“Ratchet got him, he’s in emergency surgery to fix his neck. I think they’ll fix him. They /have/ to fix him,” Tesarus said, lightly nudging Helex with his hand. “Your arm was bleeding really bad. I wrapped it up with a blanket.”

“Thanks,” Helex grunted, sitting up and feeling woozy. He grabbed his helm with his undamaged hand while the smaller set of arms attempted to grab onto something so their owner didn’t keel over. Tesarus supported him, Helex rumbling a grateful sound. “He better be okay.”

“He’s tough even though he’s small. He knows we need him to come back so he will.”

Helex reached up and felt the collar around his neck, having been so close to losing the thing for good until Ratchet realized Fulcrum had taken it off. Now he was back to being a pet, his taste of freedom gone just as quickly as they had whisked Fulcrum out of his arms. Tesarus lightly punched his friend’s back, trying to offer some kind of comfort in the only way he knew how.

“Hey, cheer up. Things’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but we can’t sit here thinking our lives are over. Helex, we have to have faith the grouchy medic can fix him.”

Helex said nothing, instead going silently into the world of his own thoughts. It was a dark place, the smelter licking away the energon that remained on his lips from the brain module. He curled a lip when he saw Prowl and Barricade approach, Barricade wearing a collar but somehow allowed to have a gun and be classified as an Enforcer. 

“How’d you manage to play cop with the Autobots, Barricade?” Tesarus sneered, the mech frowning at them both.

“Prowl needed the mechs and I fit the bill. I already had all the training,” Barricade replied, shrugging. “I got the good life, what can I say?”

Tesarus snorted, not impressed in the slightest. Helex chose to ignore the Enforcers entirely, although he was forced to deal with Prowl when the mech got right in his face and started to demand a statement about the attack. Had his owner asked him to maul the intruder? Why had he desecrated the body to such a degree? Where was the brain module? 

“Back off,” Helex snapped, showing his dentas. Barricade raised his optic ridges when he saw the former DJD’s mouth was clearly drenched in energon.

“You really /do/ eat brain modules like the rumors claimed!”

Helex rumbled but said neither yes or no, not interested in dealing with them anymore. Prowl was trying to figure out if the smelter and the grinder were threats, unsure as he walked around them and wrote down some notes. The new State of Cybertron wasn’t too concerned with dangerous pets yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to start making some files on incidences for when things in the government panned out.

“Were you ordered to attack?” he demanded again, Helex growling back and flaring his armor.

“He said to attack or run. I attacked because that SUV was shooting him,” he snapped, gingerly poking at his damaged shoulder. “That bastard deserved what he got. I made sure he suffered.”

Prowl frowned and wrote down some notes on a data pad, humming at the last part. 

“So the brain module is-”

“Eaten.”

“I knew it!” Barricade exclaimed, loving that those crazy rumors he had believed way back during the war had been true after all. The DJD were just as insane and vicious as everyone claimed they were. Not that many lived to tell, but rumors had to come from somewhere and this time the source was correct. 

Before Prowl could ask anything else, a space bridge appeared and Ratchet came through, the mech looking exhausted. He motioned for Helex to get up off the floor, the smelter currently sitting in a pool of his own spilled energon. The blue and yellow mech growled quietly in response, not about to move unless he knew where he was going. 

“Don’t give me lip! Your arm needs repairing and you’re coming with me. You’ll be closer to Fulcrum, too, so let’s get a move on.”

“Is he okay?” Helex demanded, getting helped to his pedes by Tesarus. 

“He’s stable, but we have a lot of work to do on him. Now come along.”

Helex glanced at Tesarus, unsure if he should follow. Fulcrum wasn’t there to say he was safe, to make sure no one attacked him. Plus, this was the bot who had put the collar back around his neck. Clearly the medic saw him as an enemy, Helex continuing to hang back while Ratchet impatiently tapped his pede on the floor. 

“Do I need to call someone over here to convince you to start moving?”

“Shut up,” Helex snapped, taking a few wobbly steps forward. “You better not try anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ratchet snarked, ushering Helex though the bridge and into the med bay. The mech still had the towel drenched in energon around his upper arm, the shoulder joint pulsing with agony as he walked.

He didn’t put up much of a fight when Ratchet moved him to a medical cot and helped him onto it. The smelter was fatigued, his optics lackluster due to all the energon he had lost. While the bullet wound hadn’t torn off his arm, it had nicked a main line and caused substantial bleeding. Ratchet unwrapped the towel and grumbled something, unhappy with what he saw but glad that he could fix it without too much fuss.

“Alright, you’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning,” Ratchet said, for a moment unsure where to put an IV considering the bot had two sets of arms. “It’s an easier fix than your owner’s neck, that’s for sure.”

Ratchet tried to find a main line on a smaller arm and hissed when Helex decided to bite him, the smelter getting shocked but not too harshly. He growled a warning for Ratchet to stay back, shaking his head and scratching at the pesky collar. The tag jingled, making Helex roll his optics with annoyance. If they wanted him to be a damn dog, then he’d play the part and bite.

“How do you expect me to fix you when you won’t let me put you under? Damn it, you’re going to be one of those difficult patients, aren’t you?”

“Don’t like needles,” Helex muttered simply, biting at Ratchet again when the medic tried to move for the main line in the mech’s larger arm. 

“Oh for the sake of Primus!” Ratchet exclaimed, so frustrated and sick of his job at that moment.

Eventually he ended up wrestling with Helex to get ahold of his arm, the smelter biting and growling at him the entire time. Finally Ratchet got the IV inserted, glad when Helex calmed down thanks to the influx of drugs and much needed fluids. The big mech rested his helm unhappily on a pillow and huffed, glowering at Ratchet.

“Needles aren’t so bad. They give you the stuff to stop the pain, so in a few minutes you won’t even know what’s going on and thank me for it later.”

Ratchet was right. Once Helex’s main line flooded with the drip, he was essentially knocked out on the cot. The CMO made sure to up the dosage of sedatives before he got to work reconstructing the mech’s shoulder joint, jaw grit tight as he began the tedious work. It would be a long night, the medic grateful for the help he got from First Aid when he arrived to lend a hand.

“News on Fulcrum?”

“He’s stable and we got his energon levels back to a safe amount. He’s still very pale, but he’ll make it through the night. Without complications he’ll be able to go home within the week,” First Aid said, sounding worried for Fulcrum’s state but also confident in his estimate of recovery. 

“He’s got Helex and Tesarus to take care of, so he’s going to need to be back in action as soon as possible. This brute isn’t going to like hearing his friend or whatever Fulcrum is to him won’t be coming home for a few days. The bastard got a few good bites in on me when I tried to take him away. Fulcrum took his collar off for Primus knows what reason and Helex likes to use his mouth.”

First Aid was surprised but didn’t say anything, sure that Fulcrum must have wanted Helex to be free. It saddened him to see the smelter wore the leather and metal band again, the metal tag with his designation on it glinting under the brightness of operating lights. 

“I can call Krok and make sure someone there will be able to take care of them if you want.”

“Sure, go ahead. I won’t stop you,” Ratchet grunted, more interested in welding together some shattered cabling. “I hate bullets…” he muttered as he worked.

***

Krok gave a full account of what had happened during the fight in the grocery store to Prowl, the mech nodding as he jotted down more notes for the case. What was left of the SUV was identified and his accomplice readily admitted he had been told they were supposed to be executing Tarn. They had simply gotten the wrong room and assumed Helex was the tank in the dark due to their similar sizes. Fulcrum appeared to be a casualty of panic on the SUV’s part. 

“Very well. I have collected what evidence I need. Krok, have a good night and I will contact you later if necessary. Barricade, gather up the pieces of the assailant and we will be on our way.”

Barricade got to work on bagging up the pieces of torn armor and the bloody corpse itself, putting it all in a body bag and carrying it out slung over one shoulder. He was a strong mech and once a frame drained of energon it was always lighter. Then like a bad dream it was over, the Enforcers all heading out to their base where they would properly deal with the body and the living criminal. 

Krok stood in the middle of the room, energon sticky under his pedes. It smelled of death, Helex having made a total mess of the SUV. And to Krok’s sick realization, he was happy to know the awful bot got what he deserved. Had it not been for Helex, things would surely have turned out differently. That and he was guiltily thankful that the assassins had found the wrong room. Tarn was in no condition to fight as Helex had and Krok knew he wouldn’t have been able to take two bots.

“Where are Helex and I gonna stay now?” Tesarus asked, feeling lost as he had neither his best friend nor Fulcrum to lean on. “I won’t go with Crankcase.”

“You can come with Vossy and I!” Misfire announced, getting a glare from Vos and a muttered string of curses in Primal Vernacular. “Aww, hush up, Vos, he needs somebody to stay with until pinhead and Helex come back.”

So off Tesarus went with the jet and sniper rifle, smiling a bit when Vos skittered up his plating and perched on his shoulder. He reached up and gave the little mech a pat on the side. “Good to see you’re happy, Vos. I can’t understand you for shit but you seem like you’re doing well.”

Vos churred, rubbing a cheek against Tesarus’ helm. Doing well, indeed.

“He and I are best buddies, right Vos?”

Vos answered with a muttered growl.

“Awww, he loves me!” Misfire laughed when the lithe mech leapt off of Tesarus’ shoulder and into open arms. Misfire hugged Vos tight, grinning like a madman. “I’m so glad we got paired up because he’s the world to me. Eats those crumbly pieces of silver chips kinda funny, but he’s cute I guess.”

 

Vos hissed and swatted Misfire’s helm like an angry cat, making the magenta and purple jet laugh and cradle Vos even closer. The smallest of the DJD turned his helm to Tesarus and smiled with his optics, communicating that he was indeed very pleased with how things had turned out. Tesarus grinned back, glad to see a happy ending for someone.

“So how’s the loser? He spends a lot of time with you and Helex and less with me! I’m jealous,” Misfire asked, Tesarus ruffling his armor as they entered the aerial’s apartment. It wasn’t home and he didn’t feel comfortable there. 

“He’s nice and really patient with Helex and I. I never thought he would be but he proved me wrong.”

“He does that. Sometimes he just whips out a surprise and shocks everybody!” Misfire agreed, showing Tesarus where everything was before he offered the couch to him for a place to sleep. “Dunno if you’ll fit on there but that’s the only space I’ve got! My berth isn’t too big.”

“It’s fine. Thanks,” Tess said, sitting down heavily while Vos and Misfire headed off to the kitchen to get a snack before returning to bed.

Tesarus heard the pair retreat to the berthroom, each talking to one another even though all of what Vos said was lost on the jet. Despite that, Misfire seemed to truly enjoy the gun-former’s company. Vos was chattering away, a badly butchered version of ‘Misfire’ spoken before the door closed and left Tess completely alone out on the couch in the living room. The grinder didn’t feel like he’d be able to sleep, too on edge and nervous about what might happen to Fulcrum and Helex. Were they okay? What if Fulcrum died? His thoughts overwhelmed him and the mech grabbed his head, angrily squeezing it. 

“They better be okay or else I’m gonna kill stuff,” he whispered, not even sure who he could take his anger out on anymore. The SUV who had shot Fulcrum was dead, so who was the enemy now?

Maybe it was Primus. But Tesarus knew he couldn’t kill a god, grinding his dentas in frustration. In the end he decided Fulcrum would simply have to be okay. There would be no other way to make things right otherwise.

***

“What happened?” Tarn demanded once Krok returned to their room. The tank was at the edge of the berth but hadn’t gotten off it, his stitches requiring him to rest and not walk for a few days. They would rip if he moved too aggressively, although he certainly looked as though he was about to leap into action. He had heard the commotion and had woken abruptly when Krok leapt out of their berth. “I heard gunshots.”

“That SUV, the one who owned that pet you killed, he got into the compound somehow and tried to kill us. Only he got the wrong room and shot Fulcrum in the neck and Helex in the shoulder. Thankfully from what I’ve heard from First Aid and Ratchet is that both of them will make it. Fulcrum is stable, but not out of the woods yet.”

Krok rubbed the sides of his helm as he fell back into the berth, feeling more tired than he ever had been. They were supposed to be done with fighting and killing each other! Why was it still happening to them? What had they done to deserve this?! He pulled back his battle mask and cursed, his voice wavering to signal he was very upset.

Tarn leaned over Krok’s frame and nuzzled his cheek, planting a tender kiss on the other mech’s forehead before he pulled away. 

“It’s not your fault. If it is anyone’s at all it would be mine for lack of control when it came to Burn Out’s demise.”

“Tarn, don’t say that! You’re not to blame here. I should have better security on our compound and be sure that everyone is safe! If it wasn’t for Spinister somehow hearing intruders in the base we’d have lost Helex and Fulcrum tonight,” Krok said, shaking his head in disgrace. “I need to make sure my team is taken care of.”

“And you have done that. They have survived a war that lasted millions of years,” Tarn rumbled, pulling Krok closer with one powerful arm and curling around him. “Hush, now. You need rest.”

“Says the mech who’s covered in medical staples and probably can’t rest for a second living in this crazy place. You’re a good sport to put up with the insanity,” Krok laughed, although the sound was not amused in the slightest. It was bitter, the leader of the Scavengers feeling as though he had let everyone down somehow.

He rolled over so his front was flush to Tarn’s, reaching up to ghost a pad of his thumb across Tarn’s mending cheek. The protoflesh there was already lightly scarred around his optic, but he knew the bite wound from Burn Out would likely never heal without leaving a mark. Tarn thrummed in his engine, leaning in close to nuzzle the other’s face.

“I’ll be fine, Krok,” he promised, silencing protest with a kiss. The gesture was light and affectionate, not demanding or lusty. The tank simply wanted Krok to know he was doing well and that he’d always have his loyal companion even if all others abandoned him. 

Krok sighed, returning the kiss before he nestled into the berth. “Goodnight, Tarn.”

“Goodnight, Krok. We will talk again in the morning.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if anyone reads this stuff, but I wanted to apologize for my slow uploading. I got diagnosed with mono and it's kicking my ass. When I'm done with finals at college I should be able to post more, but I'm so tired these days I can barely stay awake! 
> 
> Regardless of the illness, I will do my best to keep this story going! There's still so much to tell~

Ramjet and Crankcase slept through the entire fight that night, including the desperate com Spinister had sent out, the pair proving to be dangerously heavy sleepers. So in the morning Crankcase woke late, lazily stretching out as he yawned and checked to see how Ramjet was. The Seeker was sprawled belly-down on the berth, his wings peacefully limp at his sides while his faceplate was mashed into a pillow.

“Wake up, lazy,” Crankcase chuckled, lightly rubbing Ramjet’s lower back. The Seeker growled cutely as he was pulled out of his dreams, his wings fluttering as he came to. 

“Frag you, I was having a nice dream for once!”

“Good morning to you, too, you snarky bastard.”

Ramjet stretched out, his stiff joints snapping and cracking before he rolled onto his side. He was grinning at the morning greeting, taking a moment to scratch his collar before he sat up. Wincing when some of his stitches pulled, the mech flopped over and leaned as much of his weight on Crankcase as he could. The Scavenger roughed up the sides of the aerial’s faceplate, growling another ‘wake up or you’re in trouble’ and getting some light mouthing at the comment.

“I’ll get some food for us. You’re not allowed to get out of the berth.”

“I’m not an invalid, I can walk just fine!” Ramjet insisted, putting on a glower as Crankcase stood up and plodded off without another word. Despite what he claimed, the black and white mech stayed right where he was on the berth and chose to wait for his master to return.

“No idea what kind of food you like, but here’s what I’ve got for today,” Crankcase said when he returned to the berthroom, carrying a bowl of mercury and silver squares. It was a Cybertronian equivalent of a stew, basic but filling. “Try not to make a mess.”

Ramjet waited for Crankcase to put the mechanimal bowl down, eager optics staring up at his owner. He wanted the food so badly and didn’t dare mess up lest it get taken away. So he waited obediently for a command before he went after the reward. Crankcase smirked, impressed the Seeker had some self control.

He set the bowl down on the berth, holding out a hand. “Stay.”

Ramjet whined, wings sweeping back as he shifted where he sat. Crankcase moved his hand in a motion that beckoned the Seeker forward once he had decided the mech had waited long enough. “Go ahead, chow down.”

The black and white mech fell on the bowl like a ravenous mechanimal, practically inhaling the fuel. Crankcase gave the Seeker his space, seeing dentas flash in a warning display when he leaned a little too close. They’d have to work on the food aggression thing, but as he had already discussed with Ramjet it was likely an easy fix.

Once the mech had finished and cleaned the bowl with his glossa, Ramjet fluffed up his armor and chirped in Seeker dialect. It made something in Crankcase feel as though he was a world apart from the gorgeous creation sitting on his berth. They were entirely different frame types, one bound to the land and the other tied to the sky, and yet they were together through some of the strangest circumstances Crankcase could ever think up.

“Better watch it or I might really start to like you,” Crankcase said gruffly, sitting down on the side of the berth and smirking when Ramjet cutely rested his chin on his shoulder from behind. 

“That’s the plan, boss-bot. Gotta get you to like me so you’ll give me lots of treats! My favorite are those mineral stick things…” Ramjet crooned, nibbling at Crankcase’s audio receptor and getting his face lightly pushed away. He mouthed at his owner’s hand, playing the part of a pet perfectly. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, imp,” Crankcase snorted, capturing Ramjet under his arms and tugging the Seeker into his lap. Ramjet grinned, his undamaged wing tucked comfortably at his side while the recovering one remained limp as it hung over Crankcase’s knees. Tensing it and moving it around would only make his healing take longer. “I admit I have no idea what to do with you. I mostly just want to show you off.”

“Can you help me to the wash rack? I haven’t groomed in ages.”

“I can do that.”

Crankcase scooped up the Seeker and carried him with mild strain to the wash rack. He might be an aerial frame type, but Ramjet wasn’t as light as a feather. Once the mech regained a healthy weight Crankcase likely wouldn’t be able to haul him around unless he was in a fireman’s carry. 

Upon reaching the tub, Ramjet made all sorts of happy Seeker noises, churrs and trills filling the room. He couldn’t wait to be washed off and groomed! Preening was a major part of a Seeker’s life, even more so than a grounder. Having been kept in cages for a good couple of months, some in the auction house and the rest in his owner’s home, Ramjet hadn’t seen a wash rack since being captured. This was a big deal for him.

“Ramjet, simmer down! The more you squirm, the closer I get to dropping you!” 

Crankcase set Ramjet down in the rack and turned on the spray, watching as Ramjet positively freaked out about the oil. The Seeker was so thrilled with it, his undamaged wing flicking and vibrating before it swept out in all sorts of wing language Crankcase couldn’t hope to understand. If he had been another Seeker he would have known, but he suspected it was something to do with joy. 

“This feels so /good,/ you have no idea! Thanks a million, Crankcase!”

Crankcase stepped into the rack once the oil was warm enough for his liking (Ramjet hadn’t seemed to notice that the stuff came out pretty cold from when it was first turned on) and placed a hand on the small of the Seeker’s back. 

“Need help with any spots you can’t reach?”

“Everything on my back and my wings, if you could. I can’t believe this is real!” the black and white mech laughed, turning his dark gray faceplate into the spray. 

Crankcase took up a brush and started to work on the mech’s upper back and was instantly rewarded with a sweet churr, Ramjet’s armor flaring fully to let the other reach all the tight places. It was a show of trust, Crankcase working diligently to build a strong bond between them. Halfway through rubbing very dirty armor, Ramjet spun around and hugged Crankcase as tight as he could.

“You know what? It’s gonna sound sick, but I’m glad I got thrown out into a dumpster since it meant getting taken in by you. I think I found my new best buddy from all this!” Ramjet announced, beaming at Crankcase before he released him and continued to fuss around under the oil spray like a bird would flit in a birdbath.

“I’m glad,” Crankcase chuckled, patting Ramjet’s cone helm. “I think we’ll be friends, too.”

The pair soon started up a cleanser fight, Crankcase having put too much on the Seeker so that bubbles threatened to take over. Of course Ramjet found it hysterical and emptied half a bottle on Crankcase’s back, the pair soon enveloped in suds as they tried to push and shove each other around. It was so natural to them to just play together, never once feeling that anything was hurtful or cruel.

Laughter filled the room and before Crankcase knew it, he couldn’t hope to hide the smile on his face, nor did he ever want to again.

***

Fulcrum came to feeling very sore, his helm pounding. Swallowing dryly, his tired golden optics glanced around to see where he was. By the smell of it, it was pretty sterile and clean, so he assumed it was a med bay. Frowning, it took the mech a few moments before he realized exactly why he was there. 

“The assassin!” he gasped, trying to sit up and inhaling sharply at the pain in his neck. Okay, he was not ready to sit up. He could wait on that, his mind racing on to other more important matters. Was Helex okay? Who was watching them while he was gone? Were Krok and Tarn okay or did the assassins leave the room and kill them? 

So much was running through his mind that he didn’t notice First Aid timidly peek into the recovery room. The red and white medic almost got out unseen but at the last moment was spotted by Fulcrum’s shifting optics. 

“Wait! First Aid! Are Helex and Tesarus alright?” he shouted, desperate to know the answer. “And how long am I going to be in recovery?”

“Helex is also in recovery. He was shot in the shoulder but will be cleared to go home today at some point,” First Aid said, nodding once. “As for how long you’ll be here, I’d say another night or two until your neck is repaired enough for you to stand up.”

“Can I see Helex? Before he goes back to the apartment?”

“I…I’ll see if Ratchet will permit it and get back to you soon. Until then, rest. Your repair nanites have a lot of work to do!”

First Aid slipped away from the recovery room to find Ratchet, the grouchy CMO currently sitting in his office organizing some files. He didn’t even glance up when he heard his assistant enter, completing his task before he gave a gruff “what do you want?”

“Fulcrum is awake and wants to see Helex.”

“He can’t. I’m not getting that brute out of his recovery cell and carting him around the med bay. Say he’s already gone and then call Krok to take him.”

“But Ratchet, I think it would make Fulcrum feel bet-”

“No.”

First Aid frowned behind his face mask, the medic heading out. He debated for a few moments what he wanted to do, sighing softly. Ratchet was his boss, he couldn’t go against what he said! But he also had more compassion than many and had already seen how some of the DJD members weren’t completely evil. They were misunderstood. Just like how certain breeds of mechanimal canids were often chosen to kill and maim from birth, it was the upbringing that made them fight, not who they actually were. Yet many always saw the DJD as a group of cold murderers, not a handful of abused and tormented individuals. Megatron and his lackeys had created them for war and now they had to be reconditioned to be themselves again.

It wasn’t fair. First Aid hated what had happened and was going to make it right. And there was only one way he knew how to do that.

Fulcrum had been in and out of a nap when he heard the door of the recovery room open again, the mech blinking to clear his optics when he saw a familiar faceplate and frame. Before he could even think to prop himself up, Helex had come lumbering over and captured him in a hug.

“Fulcrum, you’re okay!” Helex purred, his energy field alight with joy at seeing his companion, his best friend. “I killed the guy who shot you! I’ll give you a piece of his armor as a trophy to remember it by. I saved one special for you before Prowl and Barricade dragged the body off. I think it’s the left pectoral plate that sits right over the spark, so it’s got some nice meaning to it.”

Helex fumbled around with his subspace before he pulled out a gristly piece of armor, still tacky with blood. He passed it over to Fulcrum like one might hand a friend a birthday present they just /know/ the other is going to love.

“Th-thanks, Helex. Um…uh…how about you keep it for me until I can come home? Sound like a good plan? I don’t want Ratchet taking it or anything.”

Helex nodded, deciding that was a very good idea. He swiftly put the piece of flayed armor back into his subspace. Fulcrum had given him back the option to use it since realizing Helex wasn’t at all interested in causing trouble or trying to murder anyone. The smelter just wanted to live out his days comfortably and have some positive attention turned in his direction.

“When are you going to come home?” Helex asked, sitting down on a chair beside Fulcrum’s berth and breaking it due to his heavy weight. He chuffed when he ended up on the floor, looking confused for a moment. Fulcrum laughed softly, glad when he saw Helex’s frown turn into a grin and his golden-yellow audio horns flick cutely to the sides of his helm.

“Quit laughing, traitor,” he growled affectionately, picking himself up and trying to snuggle closer to Fulcrum on the cot. “But really, when do you get to come home?”

“I’m not sure, Helex. I have to wait for the good doctor to give me a clean bill of health. My neck repairs are pretty serious and I lost a lot of energon. First Aid said a night or two but I don’t want to assume anything.”

Fulcrum looked at First Aid as if to ask him when he would be allowed to leave, the medic unsure of the answer. 

“I’ll check in with Ratchet and see what he says,” he decided, slipping out of the room. He knew he might lose his job for openly disobeying Ratchet’s orders, but Helex and Fulcrum were so happy together! He couldn’t in his own spark keep the pair separate. 

Meanwhile, Helex was shifting from pede to pede, clearly wishing he could get onto the cot with Fulcrum. The K-Con reached up and lightly rubbed the brute’s huge arm, a deep purr thrumming from within the smelter’s chest. 

“I can’t let you, you might break the cot,” he sighed, Helex glowering in mock offense.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“There are no energon deposits on you anywhere, Helex. You’re just a big frame type,” Fulcrum assured, Helex replying with a grin.

“I want to stay here with you until they say you can go home,” he decided, armor fluffing up in a possessive way. “I need to make sure they don’t hurt you.”

“They won’t, Helex. They’re medics sworn to help, not harm.”

Fulcrum asked the big mech to sit on the floor, adjusting his cot so it was low enough that Helex’s chest was level with the berth. The huge mech then folded his smaller set of arms and rested them on the side of the medical cot, his chin nestled between them. Fulcrum wrapped an arm around Helex’s neck to give him an awkward hug, a tired smile on his lips. 

Helex then felt his collar getting spun around on his neck and once more the weight fell away after the finger print scanner on it registered. Fulcrum had freed him yet again. “I don’t want you to wear that. Not ever. You’re a Cybertronian, not a pet.”

“Yeah, yeah, you Autobots with all that sappy stuff. I’ll still be your pet, but there’s room for me to be other stuff now, too,” Helex murmured, leaning a little further onto the cot to gently press his cheek to Fulcrum’s. He could smell dried energon on the bot’s neck tinged with sterile medical cleanser and stitches, rumbling unhappily. 

It wasn’t fair! Fulcrum was too nice for this to happen to him! He had never done anything cruel or mean. He was just being himself, trying to sleep for Primus’ sake, and had been attacked by an assassin who got the wrong room. It was ludicrous. It was awful. But at least Fulcrum was alive. Helex would simply have to protect him better from now on.

“You’re a good mech, Helex.”

“And you’re an even better one, Fulcrum. I hope you repair fast,” Helex sighed, hearing Fulcrum’s venting slow down to signal the other was starting to fall asleep. He didn’t move his cheek from Fulcrum’s, not even when the door to the recovery room clicked open and First Aid bustled inside. 

The medic checked everything, replacing the IV and taking down Fulcrum’s vitals. “May I see his neck, Helex?”

Helex rumbled, reluctantly moving his helm out of the way so First Aid could clean the stitches off, the protoflesh slightly swollen from the trauma. But it looked like it was repairing well enough, Helex watching everything carefully. If First Aid noticed his collar was laying on the floor and no longer around the DJD member, he didn’t mention it.

“He’ll need to stay another two nights,” he said before offering Helex a cube. “I’ll try to keep Ratchet away from here and pretend that I brought you back to the Scavenger’s apartment complex. I’ll be in a huge amount of trouble if I get caught, so please stay quiet!”

Helex nodded, grunting in understanding.

“I’ll keep quiet, but mind bringing me something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Of course. Stay put and I’ll bring it as soon as I can.”

And so Helex stayed in the recovery room under total secrecy, nestling his warm cheek up against’s Fulcrum’s until he, too, dozed off.


	19. Chapter 19

“Spinister, stop fussing,” Kaon said gently, pushing the larger aerial away as he tried to fawn over Kaon’s ever-so-slightly rounded middle. “We just started this whole process. Sparklings aren’t going to arrive for some time.”

“But I need to be sure you’re all safe!” Spinister exclaimed, Kaon huffing at the ridiculous behavior of the helicopter.

“There is no ‘we’ yet. Spinister, it’s just me carrying around some transfluid.”

“Shhh…we have to keep those secrets classified from the ones who are watching!”

Kaon let Spinister live out his neurotic ranting, these instances usually only lasting for a few minutes before the mech simmered down. Spinister’s Sire programming had already kicked in from what Kaon could grasp, driving the purple and magenta aerial to become even more paranoid than usual. He wanted to make sure that nothing could harm his lover and the little lives he already assumed he was carrying. It was endearing, but also slightly annoying when Spinister became destructive.

Kaon could hear Spinister knock something off the berthside table with one of his sweeping rotor blades, the clatter of the item swiftly followed by a deafening blast from the mech’s gun. Kaon sighed, not even flinching since he was so used to it at this point. 

“Did it make a face at you, Spinister?”

“Yes…yes it did. It looked at me and tried to make an attack! Don’t worry, I made sure it’s not a threat anymore,” the unhinged helicopter crooned, nuzzling into the top of Kaon’s helm. “I’ll keep you safe from all the bad things out there.”

“I know you will, Spinister,” Kaon replied, reaching up to caress the mech’s faceplate. “So, how about you and I make sure we have even better chances of having that family, hmm? The more transfluid, the better…”

Kaon felt a coy smile spread across his lips, the mech always having been a fan of interfacing. The other DJD members had loved it when he was in the mood and allowed them to entertain their fantasies, always willing to have a romp if they weren’t on a job. And amazingly enough, Spinister was actually better in the berth than all of the DJD members combined. He was borderline feral, but never did anything too kinky and Kaon appreciated it. He had been tied up, teased, and tormented enough!

He heard Spinister’s battle mask snick back and felt the other place a kiss on his lower throat cabling, trailing his lips upward in a path along his jawline and then to his mouth. Kaon wrapped his arms around Spinister’s neck in a tight hug, his empty optic sockets creasing slightly at the corners to display a smile as they shared a passionate yet brief kiss.

“Make love to me this time, Spinister. Deep and slow,” he whispered, his lower lip brushing against his mate’s. Spinister revved his engine in response. 

“I can do that.”

Spinister had just rolled them onto the berth when his helm suddenly swung upwards and his entire frame went tense. Someone new was in the base! Someone with a different weight and footstep pattern!

“Enemies!” he hissed, leaping off of Kaon and going into full attack mode. “Stay here where it’s safe! Someone new is in the compound!”

And with that, Kaon was left laying on the berth wondering what crazy thing Spinister thought he heard this time.

***

“Crankcase, who is that?!” Misfire exclaimed, currently lounging on his favorite couch in the shared common room. Vos was perched on his shoulder, his torture mask in one spindly hand as he tried to explain in Primal Vernacular how it worked. He hushed when he realized someone other than Misfire was entering the room, quickly disengaging the spikes of the mask and clipping it back on over his real faceplate. 

“He’s my new pet. His name is Ramjet. And we’re going to a pet show so we can’t be late.”

“Wait, since when did you get a new pet? And how did you not mess him up like you did with Tesarus yet?”

“I rescued him. Funny how things all came about, but he’s mine and wants to go show off how handsome he is now that he’s cleaned up. So we can talk later, but Ramjet needs to stay nicely polished and-Hey, keep Vos away from him!” 

Ramjet was already on a leash, smirking proudly when he got attention from Misfire. For a bot who was living a life of servitude, he sure didn’t seem too bothered by it. Only when Vos went scuttling off of Misfire’s shoulder and over to him did the cocky expression falter. The Seeker was known to be a coward, so he pulled away and hid himself behind Crankcase once he was approached. 

“Nuh-uh! Back up, you little scraplet! Ramjet doesn’t like other pets, he’s had some bad experiences! Misfire, call your devil back!” Crankcase snapped, putting himself between Ramjet and Vos as the lithe sniper rifle tried to get a good look at Ramjet.

He slipped around Crankcase at one point and made to swipe at Ramjet’s wing like a naughty feline and instantly got smacked by Ramjet’s hand, the Seeker hissing a warning. Vos spat back, leaping away out of reach before he retreated to Misfire’s shoulder once more. From there he glared daggers at Ramjet, his armor plating ruffled aggressively. Ramjet growled a warning, his wings canted low on his back. 

His damaged wing had healed well overnight with the nanite creams Crankcase had been told to put on it and the appendage was now able to be moved about as if it had never been damaged. Ramjet still had some stitches, but if he kept his armor lowered at the pet show the judges would never notice. 

“Hey, play nice, Vos!” Misfire scolded gently, taking Vos off of his shoulder and settling the irate gun-former in his lap. “Did you rescue him from a secondary auction house? Looks like he’s been through a spat or two. I can see some stitches under armor plating now that he’s all flared up.”

 

“I rescued him from a pit fight, if you have to know. Anyway, I’ll tell you more about it when we have the time. I’m not going to be late for this show since Ramjet really wants to win something.”

Crankcase lightly tugged the leash and encouraged Ramjet to move along, the Seeker never breaking optic contact with Vos as he strode across the room to the door. Only once he was outside the compound did he regain his big grin, trotting happily alongside his owner. 

“Who are they? The little one is a freak.”

“Misfire and Vos. I’ll introduce you to everyone later, but right now I want you in the mindset of a winner! You’re going to make us some good credits so I can buy you that fancy skylight thing Seekers like.”

“Frag yeah, I’ll show all of them! I’ll get first prize since I’m a natural-born winner!”

“That’s the spirit,” Crankcase chuckled, hoping Ramjet would at least win a few ribbons to make him feel like he wasn’t a broken, discarded thing to be thrown in a dumpster. He was a gorgeous Seeker type and regardless of whether he won first place, Crankcase had already made an appointment to have the skylight put into his apartment. Whatever made Ramjet happier, Crankcase would try to make it reality.

***

Tarn was not excited to have his stitches taken out. He was not a fan of Ratchet whatsoever and refused to go willingly to the med bay with Krok. The tank currently sat hunched where he sat as a gloomy mass of living metal, optics narrowed as he watched Krok try in vain to coax him to come along. 

“I’ll give you a massage when we come back.”

Tarn refused to move.

“I’ll let you top me for the rest of the month.”

Tarn’s optics widened slightly, but he turned his helm away to say even that wasn’t good enough. 

“I’ll let you have your vocalizer unchipped.”

“You’re lying!” Tarn snarled, shocked at the offer and refusing to allow himself to be tricked. His optics were blazing like fire, hot and lacking mercy. “If you’re trying to fool me with hollow promises I swear upon any gods that will listen, I’ll-”

“No, I’m not lying, Tarn.”

“Move your battle mask so I can see your faceplate.”

Krok pulled back the mask and smiled, the expression genuine. “I want you to have your voice back, Tarn. I don’t want you to feel like all you are is a pet.”

Tarn stared, swallowing dryly as the information sunk in. Krok…was offering him his vocalizer ability again. Because he trusted him not to use it to kill everyone. The leader of the Scavengers was willing to risk it all to bring the tank happiness and peace, Tarn feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Was this how it was supposed to work between two bots when they started to care about each other? Was this the ultimate proof that there was some kind of bond between them?

“I have seen so many broken promises in my life, this had better not be another.”

“I won’t let you down, Tarn.”

Tarn stiffly rose from the window seat he had taken a liking to, padding over to Krok and regarding him with highly intelligent but also strangely emotional optics. One might assume the leader of a band of torturers would be void of feelings, but these optics conveyed so much more. The leader of the DJD was a deeper creature than many knew or cared to understand. He was a broken thing and had been through all of his life. 

“Then let us go.”

Krok expected a fuss when they got to the med bay, Tarn already balking at the scents and sights. He didn’t have any fond memories of the place, remembering when he had first arrived and had all his weapons and Outlier ability shut down. The tank pull back on his leash, trying to drag Krok over to the bridge they had just come through.

“I want to go back,” he demanded, wheezing when Krok yanked him forward in the waiting room. 

“No, we’re getting your voice fixed and those stitches out!” Krok shot back, manhandling the tank to the front desk where the mech there watched the struggle with a nervous frown. 

“Do you…have an appointment?”

“I do. It’s for Tarn?”

“Yep, I have it right here. I’ll call someone to come get you.”

Tarn and Krok were still playing a game of tug with the leash when First Aid came to fetch them, waving to Tarn when the tank finally registered someone was watching. The purple and black brute huffed, not sure if he should return the gesture or even offer a greeting. First Aid might be nice, but he was in league with Ratchet…

“No need to be upset! This is a great day, Tarn! You being here means you’re all healed up!”

Tarn said nothing, instead fighting every step of the way into the main med bay. Once Krok got him to the medical cot, the tank seemed to be calming down if only slightly.

“I got a message from Krok that you’re going to have your vocalizer unchipped today, too! That’s wonderful news!” 

First Aid kept up the positive attitude and non-threatening voice, glad to see that it was soothing the tank enough for him to get on the cot. Tarn sat there looking both angry and anxious, optics flicking all over as he checked to see if Ratchet was close by. 

Tarn growled when he felt a pinch in his shoulder under one of his tank treads, the mech flashing his dentas in warning. First Aid had already hidden the evidence, a now empty syringe of sedatives disposed of in a nearby waste bin. The medic figured it was for the best, just so he could work with Tarn a little easier. 

Krok was glad when Tarn finally lay down on the cot, fatigued but not asleep. He didn’t care much as First Aid started to take out the stitches in his sides and chest, the medic moving upwards towards the DJD member’s facial wound. As First Aid worked he chattered away about the Wreckers and anything else he could think of, also engaging Krok in some basic conversation. 

“I’m really glad you’re giving him back his voice.”

“Me too. He’s been through a lot and put up with me. I want him to feel like he’s not a pet anymore. He’s so more than that.”

“I say this a lot, but we need more bots like you. The amount of times I have mechs bring in abused pets that I /know/ they’ve beaten and raped and purposefully tormented…it’s terrible. I wish you could teach them all that it’s not right. Even if the Decepticons lost, they deserve some respect.”

First Aid’s careful hands were now on Tarn’s faceplate, one holding his chin steady while the other deftly removed the stitching on the gouge wound across his cheek. There would be a scar leftover on the protoflesh, Burn Out having ripped away too much of the living metal for it to recover without marks. The medic let out a tiny squeak when Tarn suddenly growled and bit him, one of the stitches clearly hurting when it was removed. The area bled some, First Aid quick to dab the energon away.

“I know, that must have hurt. Sorry about that, Tarn! The faceplate is a sensitive area but you’ve been so good.”

First Aid continued to work, carefully removing the last of the stitches. He told Krok he would go get Ratchet for the more in depth surgery of removing the vocalizer chip and hurried off, leaving Krok and Tarn together. Krok leaned down and gave his brute a big hug, glad when he felt a heavy hand pat his back.

“When you wake up again, I’m going to ask you to sing,” Krok murmured, seeing Ratchet and First Aid coming closer. He kept Tarn distracted in the hug, smiling when he saw Tarn’s optics brighten at the idea of singing again.

The tank snarled when his main line was pricked by an IV, a brief flare of fury consuming the mech. But then he calmed as the medicine began to work, gaze fixated on Krok’s faceplate. He was putting all his faith in the bot and hoped it was worth it.

***

Tarn’s vocalizer chip was removed without trouble and he was sent home as soon as the drugs wore off, leaving Ratchet with a busy schedule as always. His head was aching by the time he was done. Sideswipe came in with a broken wrist from Primus knows what sort of stunt, Sandstorm came in gravid, and Tracks brought in a very abused Dead End. Thankfully Ratchet was able to repair the damage and keep the Stunticon overnight, but it wasn’t long enough. Ratchet knew the Porsche would return a few weeks later with the same abuse and cursed Tracks for it.

Tired and excited to spend the rest of the night in his apartment above the med bay (First Aid was on call that night), he went to check in on one last patient. Rubbing his optics, Ratchet pushed open the door to Fulcrum’s dark recovery room and walked inside. 

He could already see from the bot’s vitals that he was asleep, but he wanted to be sure his neck was healing properly and his IV drip was going to last him through the night. Ratchet made it all the way to the side of the berth when he stepped on something and was startled out of his wits by a loud yelp-snarl.

“What in the name of Primus?!” he bellowed, slamming a fist against the light switch to find the massive form of Helex had apparently been curled up asleep beside Fulcrum’s cot. The brute was nursing one of his smaller hands, the appendage surely having been what Ratchet had stepped on. The smelter showed his dentas, meanly posturing as Fulcrum also startled awake from the noise. 

“Helex? Helex, are you alright? What’s happening?” he asked, optics unable to adjust quickly to the light.

“He stepped on me!” Helex snapped accusingly, Ratchet giving him a death glare. 

“You’re not supposed to be in the med bay at all! First Aid said you had gone back with Krok today at noon! And why in the world would you take off his collar, Fulcrum?! We have those on killers like him for a reason!”

“He’s not a killer anymore! Helex is my friend, he’s not out to hurt anyone! Right, Helex?” Fulcrum exclaimed, reaching over to lightly place a hand on the smelter’s warm shoulder. The mech grunted in agreement, although Ratchet didn’t trust it one bit.

“He needs to leave. NOW.”

“Ratchet, please! He hasn’t done anything to anyone! Just let him stay the night and tomorrow morning both of us will go home. Okay? It’s the best compromise I can think of,” Fulcrum said, hoping he could encourage the CMO to leave them be for a few more hours. “Because I don’t want to go anywhere unless Helex can come and I know you won’t send me home tonight.”

Ratchet was silent for a few minutes before he finally gave up, turning around and waving a dismissive hand at the pair. 

“You better be out of my med bay by tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure First Aid walks you out,” he said, deciding it was best to let this problem go. So long as Helex didn’t go on a rampage around the med bay, Ratchet was reluctant yet willing to let him and Fulcrum remain for the rest of the night. 

Once he shut the door (and locked the pair in for good measure), Ratchet stalked off to find First Aid and give him a good scolding. He was putting other patients in danger by letting a bot like Helex out of his recovery cell! Did he somehow forget what the DJD had done? How the miserable experiences they had shared at Delphi were all tied to them? All the friends they had lost?

If First Aid had forgotten, Ratchet was more than happy to remind him.

Meanwhile, back in the recovery room, Helex showed Fulcrum his smaller hand that had been stepped on. His fingers were red and there were a few dents, but he was largely unharmed, as a mech his size and strength should be. 

“Think you can go back to sleep?” Fulcrum asked, getting a snort from Helex in response. 

“Yeah, I can sleep. Night, traitor.”

“Goodnight, Helex. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Fulcrum settled back into the cot and was soon asleep, Helex curling up beside the berth like a loyal mastiff dog. He was used to sleeping on all sorts of terrane, so the hard floor didn’t bother him in the slightest. So before he knew it, he followed Fulcrum into the realm of dreams. And in his dream he proudly brought Fulcrum a new battle trophy, this one red chevron connected to some white helm plating. Grinning in his sleep, the smelter rolled over onto his other side and started to snore softly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering, this is pretty much how I imagine Vos would look like without his torture face mask thing haha (although I would imagine him looking a bit older). This artist did a great job! All credit goes to them :) 
> 
> http://iwanita.tumblr.com/post/97896281882/dataglitch-dude-what-if

Ramjet was nervous around other pets and should have thought twice about entering a pet show when it was such a social event. Crankcase kept him away from the main crowds, but bots were curious when such a unique Seeker entered and tended to gravitate towards the black and white conehead. 

“Ramjet, whatever you do, don’t bite anyone. And when the judge offers you food, take it nicely. They deduct points when pets snatch treats or dent fingers,” Crankcase instructed, sitting with Ramjet on a bench outside the main room as they waited for the competition to start.

“I’ll be fine, I just don’t like everyone coming over and crowding me. I’ll get over it but after being thrown out by my old owner and attacked by trained fighting pets I’m a little wary,” Ramjet sighed, rubbing the back of his helm. Crankcase lightly patted the Seeker on his back, trying to soothe his nerves. 

“If you want to back out…”

“No way. I want to win! I wanna show all of them that a conehead is way cooler than those “better” models,” Ramjet huffed, always having had a chip on his shoulder about the cone helm. He had been mocked for it, as had the rest of his trine, but it wasn’t like other Seekers weren’t the same way! It was just that Dirge, Thrust, and Ramjet had survived longer than the other bots of their frame type when the attack on Vos occurred.

“Femmes and mechs, it’s about that time! Bring your pets in to the main room and we’ll get this show started!” the announcer called over the intercoms, Crankcase and Ramjet both heading to the large room where the judging would be held.

“You’re sure?”

“Sure as hell,” Ramjet whispered before they reached their place at the 14th station. Ramjet sat down in front of the number and obediently waited for his turn.

His wings rose with excitement when he spotted someone he knew, optics bright as he tried to get the other bot’s attention. The aerial whined with frustration that he couldn’t get the mech to look at him at first, but eventually their gazes met. Thundercracker sat beside his owner as regal as could be, stern and unreadable as he regarded Ramjet. Ramjet’s wings tilted cutely in a playful and friendly display, the Seeker clearly trying to show he was excited to see someone he recognized. Those happy wings drooped though when Thundercracker turned his helm away and ignored him.

Crankcase noticed the brief exchange from the corner of his optics but didn’t acknowledge it. He would after the judging was over, but right now he didn’t want to do anything that might cause Ramjet to lose points or distract him from the competition.

“And who is this handsome boy here?” a judge suddenly asked, Crankcase snapping out of his thoughts. 

“This is Ramjet. He’s a rescue.”

Ramjet once again put his wings at an angle that said he was friendly, ‘standing’ on his hands and knees as the judge knelt down to get a good look at him. The black and white Seeker was extra wiggly and lovable like a loyal canine, wanting all the attention and praise he could get. The judge smiled, catching Ramjet’s chin in his hand.

“Let’s take a look at your pretty optics and dentas, hmm?”

Ramjet let the judge stare at his faceplate and opened his mouth when ordered, the judge counting to see if he had all his dentas. Nodding once, he marked something on his data pad and went for the Seeker’s wings next. Ramjet stayed still when the mech moved his wings to test the joints, Crankcase noticing the judge frown at the recently damaged wing that didn’t quite have a full range of movement yet. Points off for that, but ah well. Ramjet looked great otherwise. 

“Alright, pop those panels back, Ramjet.”

Ramjet didn’t even think, instead swiftly doing as he was told. His valve was admired for a moment, the white protoflesh flawless and undamaged. He did flinch slightly when the judge wrapped a hand around his spike, the pure white organ stiffening partially at the sudden warmth. The judge checked the tip and hummed his appreciation.

“Very nice stud you have here. When the prizes are announced I’m sure you’ll have bots asking for breeding contracts,” the judge declared, marking a few finals things on his data pad before he took out an iron strip and offered it to Ramjet.

Crankcase tensed when he saw Ramjet’s golden optics lock onto the food offering and take on that slightly feral glint they always did when food came out. The judge was going to change some of his marks on the data pad once Ramjet bit him, the Scavenger waiting for the cursing that would signal Ramjet had struck. Amazingly, it never happened. 

Ramjet stopped himself from attacking the food only because he knew it would cost him the win. The Seeker used all the self control he had and politely took the iron strip from the judge between his dentas, swiftly sitting down to gnaw on the treat. The judge smiled and moved on to the shuttle mech sitting in the 15th space next to Ramjet and Crankcase.

“You did so well, Ramjet,” Crankcase murmured, watching as Ramjet viciously tore at the jerky-like iron strip.

“I tried!” Ramjet replied shortly before he attacked his treat some more. 

It took a half hour before the points were tallied and the category ribbons and prizes were passed out. Ramjet sat pressed up close to Crankcase’s legs, wings vibrating excitedly as he waited to see if he’d get anything. 

“Best groomed goes to…Thundercracker!”

“Best armor coloration goes to…Goldenwing!”

“Best behavior goes to…Ramjet!”

Ramjet whipped his helm up to beam a massive smile at Crankcase as a judge’s assistant came over with a red ribbon and a bag of fancy pet treats. He stuck the magnetic part of the ribbon on Ramjet’s wing and hurried off to give out the next prize.

“Most unique breed goes to…Ramjet!”

Ramjet practically passed out from sheer joy when he got a second ribbon, Crankcase trying not to laugh when the Seeker gave him another one of his huge grins. He was a total goof and Crankcase loved him for it.

“Now for the big prizes. Fifth best in show goes to…Quake!”

Ramjet waited for his name to be called, but nothing came. They were down to the second and first place, the mech pretty sure he wouldn’t get either of those. His wing hadn’t been perfect and he was assuming the judge had found some other stuff that would dock points…but even so, he waited with big, hopeful optics turned on the judge. 

“Second best in show goes to…Ramjet!”

Ramjet couldn’t believe it, shocked still as he watched the judge’s assistant bring over an impressive trophy, 3,000 credits, a silvery jeweled collar, and three bags of expensive pet treats. Crankcase shook the mech’s hand after he accepted all the rewards, holding the fancy new collar in his empty palm. It was soft leather from a silver-white turbo-bull and was studded with diamonds. Ramjet would look absolutely stunning in it.

“And the best in show is…Thundercracker!!!” 

The crowd applauded as Thundercracker was showered in prizes, the Seeker looking pleased with himself. His owner, Mirage, also looked extremely pleased with how things had turned out and lightly pet Thundercracker’s helm as the crowd went to get a closer look at the winner.

“Crankcase! You had a hell of a pet to almost beat Thundercracker! I saw the judge’s marks and he only got a few off!” Atomizer called, the mech coming over with his pet. He was a jet of some kind, the teal and purple mech cocking his head at Ramjet as he approached while the black and white Seeker shied away. 

“Ramjet’s something special! He’s a bit nervous around other pets though, so just be aware.”

“Oh, okay! Heel, Swift!”

The jet backed off and sat right down beside his owner’s pedes, rumbling quietly. 

“Good boy,” Atomizer crooned, passing his pet a treat before he commanded him to stay and moved closer to see Ramjet. “C’mere, boy! I want to see the real best in show!”

The gentle words coaxed Ramjet out from his hiding spot behind Crankcase, the mech as friendly as he had been with the judge. Atomizer pet him and roughed up his armor, lightly tipping up the wing that had the ribbons on it. 

“You’ve got a real nice bot, but I’d never trade Swift for anything! He’s amazing,” Atomizer purred, kneeling down to give his pet a hug. The Decepticon seemed to enjoy it, optics half shuttered as he leaned into Atomizer’s embrace.

“What awards did he get?”

“He only got best frame structure this time, but this was some tough competition! Anyway, we’re off to the pet store because that’s our tradition after a pet show. Regardless of winning I want him to feel special, because he is! I spoil you, huh big guy?”

“Always,” Swift replied, rising onto his pedes so he could walk out alongside his owner. The game of playing pet was over. Crankcase noticed as the pair left that Atomizer’s fingers tangled with Swift’s so that they were holding hands palm-to-palm on the way out, the only thing showing they were unequal being the collar and leash on Swift’s neck. 

At least one more bot had found a good home.

“Can we go home, too? I want to show off my new trophy!” Ramjet asked, waiting for permission to stand up and walk out just as Swift had. 

“One second, Ramjet. Someone’s coming over.”

That someone was Mirage and Thundercracker. Both looked regal as could be, Thundercracker’s plating shining with expensive polish. He eyed Ramjet with the calculating yet rather cold expression he had always been known for in the Decepticon ranks. 

Only because Ramjet knew Thundercracker prior to being capture, he tried to show how friendly and excited he was to see an old buddy! In reality they had never really been friends, but it felt like they had some kind of connection since they had both survived and seemed to have done well in terms of owners.

“Hey, TC! How’s life treating you?” Ramjet whispered when he heard Mirage and Crankcase start talking about something. The turquoise mech flicked his wings back in a stance that said he was not too interested in being friends, even curling a lip at the other bot. 

“I’ve been well. Clearly you can see that,” Thundercracker shot back, making Ramjet’s smile falter on his dark gray faceplate. 

“Yeah, but…but isn’t it cool we get to see each other again? I haven’t seen anyone I used to know except for you. I know it’s a stretch, but have you seen Dirge or Thrust at all? I’m worried about what happened to them.”

“Haven’t seen them,” Thundercracker replied curtly, not invested in the conversation whatsoever. He wasn’t supposed to talk when he was in ‘pet-mode’ as Mirage liked to call it, anyway. 

“Have you seen anyone?”

“What part of what I just said is difficult for you to understand? I haven’t seen your trine mates or my own for that matter! I haven’t seen anyone I used to serve with except Octane and that was only from a brief passing in the street!” Thundercracker snapped, hissing when his collar suddenly zapped him. 

“Hush,” Mirage scolded, turning an annoyed glance down at his pet. “Crankcase, you really should train your pet not to speak. It is not professional to have him talking like a mech during pet shows.”

“The show’s over, I don’t mind. Besides, he’s funny! I’d let him chatter my audio receptor off and not mind one bit.”

Mirage curled a lip in disdain. “How did you afford a Seeker, anyway? Most of all a ‘unique breed’ according to the judges? You’re a Scavenger, not a bot who is making millions.”

“He’s a rescue, actually. Someone used him as a bait mech in a pit ring and I got him out of a dumpster where they threw him away. He was nearly dead from energon loss but I had him fixed up and now he’s my loyal companion! Couldn’t ask for a better bot. He’s my world right now.”

Ramjet heard that and leaned up against Crankcase’s legs, glancing cutely up at him. Crankcase pet his cone helm, gaining a purr from his black and white aerial. Thundercracker’s expression grew increasingly darker as he watched the exchange, jealous and angry that stupid, ugly Ramjet got to live without rules and do well. It wasn’t fair!

“Interesting story,” Mirage said briskly, clearly not giving it a second thought. “Anyway, I was coming here to ask you for a breeding contract. I’ve been looking for another Seeker type to Carry for my handsome mech…provided Thundercracker likes the look of him,” Mirage said, tugging Thundercracker’s leash. “You may socialize, pet. Decide if you want him.”

“Ramjet’s a bit skittish around other pets…and he was marked as a stud, not a Carrier.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine with Thundercracker. They used to fight together, so I’m sure they’re familiar and possibly even friends,” Mirage said, slackening the leash so Thundercracker could prowl closer to Ramjet. “I’d be willing to give you half the litter, but not the first pick. I want a little champion if I’m going to bother with the whole breeding idea.”

“They are mechs, Mirage, not dogs!” Crankcase snapped, feeling his temper flare. “Maybe that’s how you treat Thundercracker, but Ramjet is a Cybertronian and I won’t have you making his station of slavery any more demeaning. I came here today because /he/ wanted to win something, not because I was looking for a breeding contract, you sick bastard!”

The black and white Seeker saw the hateful look in TC’s optics and shied away behind Crankcase in an attempt to seek shelter. He didn’t want trouble, his armor slicked close to his frame from nervousness. Thundercracker seemed intent on showing how tough he was, the prideful Seeker’s armor flared to make his already large frame larger. He had always been the biggest of his trine and Dirge had often wondered during the war if Thundercracker was actually the secret trine leader while Starscream simply stood in as a figurehead.

When Ramjet felt Thundercracker’s commanding presence, he knew instantly that Dirge had been right. 

“Excuse me?!” Mirage gasped, unable to believe he had been berated in public and insulted to his face. No one did that to him! He was practically royalty! No, he WAS royalty!

“You heard me,” Crankcase said, optics narrowed behind his visor. “My answer is no. I won’t have any ‘contracts’ with the likes of you. You’re the kind of Autobot I hate.”

“And you’re the kind of Decepticon turn-cloak that the new Senate should have dealt with accordingly. You should be wearing a collar and shown your place.”

“Take. That. Back!” Crankcase demanded, closing the space between him and the Noble so that their chest plates almost touched. “Say it again.”

“Heel, boy,” Mirage sneered, curling a lip.

Ramjet heard what was going on with his owner and suddenly lowered his wings like a cat might flatten its ears and hissed, a warning sound for both Thundercracker and Mirage to stay away. He now placed himself in front of Crankcase and postured, ready for a fight. A low growl-trill emerged from Thundercracker’s chest, the larger Seeker rising to meet the challenge with his lips drawn back in a snarl. 

“Ramjet, we’re leaving. Stand up.”

Ramjet rose from his hands and knees and waited loyally at Crankcase’s side. Mirage laughed, turning to go. He might talk a big game, but his glossa was sharper than his weapons. He would much rather exchange words than blows, so the mech figured it was time to move on and gloat about his prize winning pet somewhere else. 

“Pity. You really missed out on something good, Crankcase.”

“I doubt it,” the Scavenger snapped, turning and taking Ramjet’s hand. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Good. I hate them,” Ramjet whispered, the pair swiftly exiting the pet show. “But hey, I won stuff! And you got some credits!”

“Right, we need to focus on the good things. And having the extra money means that skylight will be yours!” Crankcase said, trying to put the stressful event with Mirage behind him. He and Ramjet had better things to do, such as show off the Seeker’s trophy as they walked back to the apartment.

***

“Hey, Tesarus!” 

“What?”

“Wanna play a holo screen game with Vos and I? It’s one of those racing ones where you collect credit chips and do some crazy driving stunts!” Misfire called back, plopping himself down on the couch in the main common room. Tesarus sulked, not sure if he wanted to get involved in a game. 

“I dunno, I’ll watch you guys play a round first.”

“I’ll show you how to beat Vos!” Misfire snickered, snort-laughing when Vos started to lightly claw and poke him. The gun-former had leapt over the back of the couch and settled in Misfire’s lap, purring and chittering something in his native tongue. “Can’t understand you for shit, Vossy, but you’re real cute…OW! Hey, hey, okay! I won’t call you cute!”

Tesarus glanced up from the chair he had claimed as his and regarded the happy pair. Even if they pestered each other, it seemed to be in good spirits and never cruel. It was simply the dynamic they had, teasing and playing clearly a big part of what made them work. Once again Tesarus felt jealous and lonely, wondering when Fulcrum and Helex would come back. He missed them.

The grinder hadn’t even realized how much he hated to sleep alone until he was isolated on the couch listening to Vos and Misfire talk and get settled in their berthroom. Tesarus couldn’t believe he missed it so much, but he craved Helex’s warmth and Fulcrum’s goodnight conversation and baths and dinners and…

Tesarus whined, heavily putting his helm in his hands. He had kept an optic on the ground bridge into the compound yet no one came through it except for Crankcase and Ramjet. He said absolutely nothing to the new pet and refused to meet Crankcase’s optics. The Scavenger was getting all sorts of attention because his new pet had won second place in a show, making Tesarus’ armor rise until he simply couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“Did he rape you yet?” he suddenly snarled, seeing Misfire was giving Ramjet some attention while the Seeker grinned and showed off the ribbons on his wing. His optics went wide when he heard Tesarus speak, not having noticed he was even in the room until he spoke. 

“What?” he asked, voice nervous. “Crankcase would never do that!”

“Oh, really? Tell him what you did to me, Crankcase. I was his relinquished pet, Ramjet! The second he gets sick of you or you develop a problem, he’ll dump you out on someone else or threaten to put you back in the auction house! Right, Master? Tell the truth for once.”

Crankcase was at a loss for words, feeling Ramjet’s anxious gaze on him. 

“Tesarus, you and I weren’t ever going to work. I made mistakes when I started out owning a pet. I had no idea what went into having that sort of responsibility or-”

“You ruined me! You made me scared and distrusting of /Fulcrum,/ a bot who is nothing but kind and loving! You tore my seal and humiliated me in the worst possible way! Ramjet, don’t you dare trust him because he’ll prove to you somewhere down the line that you mean absolutely nothing to him.”

“Damn,” Misfire said, picking up Vos and heading back to their apartment. “Gonna let you guys sort this out on your own! I don’t want any part of it. Neither does Vos!”

Vos watched Tesarus until the door of their apartment shut, his long fingers gently tugging on Misfire’s wing. The jet tilted his head to give the other bot a kiss on he cheek. 

“What’s up, Vos?”

“Missssssfffyyyre,” he crooned, cuddling in with him. “Tesssss…hhh…hurrrt?”

“Crankcase did some bad stuff to him, but he’s got Fulcrum to take care of him now! I think there’s gonna be a blowup in there though, so it’s better if we’re not involved. I want to make sure you’re safe!”

Misfire padded into their kitchen to get a snack, laughing when Vos’ arm came into view and his claws hooked a bag of silver chips in the cupboard for himself. A low churr came from the gun-former as he swiftly opened the package and started to daintily eat the chips while perched on Misfire’s shoulder.

“What’s with you and silver chips?”

Vos said something close to ‘they’re good’ and made Misfire’s grin wider, the mech grabbing a few mineral sticks for himself before he brought them over to their small living room. Vos slid into his lap and comfortably leaned up against him, his torturous ‘face’ mask already taken off and his battle mask pulled back. He looked up at Misfire and grinned, showing off some kitten-like dentas. Misfire beamed back, goofy as always. 

“You’re the best, Vos. C’mere,” he purred as he opened his arms for a hug, glad when Vos set the chips down and eagerly embraced him. Lots of cheek nuzzling ensued, Vos starting to ask for kisses when there was a particularly loud shout from the common room. He flinched, claws hooking into Misfire’s armor seams. “It’s okay, Vos, they’re not coming in here.”

Vos nodded, ruffling his armor before he resumed his affections. He eventually pulled back and looked thoughtful, tapping his claws together with a tiny huff. He didn’t have the words to communicate what he wanted, so he decided it would have to be written. Twisting around and snatching a data pad off the coffee table, Vos began to type something that Misfire could read. 

“This has to be important if you’re writing me a letter. Is it your back, Vos?” Misfire asked, lightly rubbing the mech’s side. Vos shook his head, chittering a string of assurances in Primal Vernacular that it was not his back injury acting up again, but something else. 

He put the finishing touches on the note, handed it over, then clasped one of the jet’s hands in both of his, squeezing it tight. “Missssfffyyrre,” he purred, hoping the other mech would feel the same way. He had taken a risk announcing what he was feeling and desperately longed for things to work out.

Misfire took the data pad and read through the well written letter, surprised to find Vos was proficient in the written language of Neocybex. No grammatical errors, no spelling issues. Everything made sense and it got Misfire’s spark pulsing faster when he read what the note said: 

Dearest Misfire, 

You have been what I would call my best friend and have taught me how to care for someone else. I never thought I would be more than an ornament or a pet. I was once forced to be part of a gun collection before the DJD discovered me. My prior owner had been on the List and after his demise I was, for a brief moment, free. After being conditioned to hate compassion and feel that there was none left in this world, I have at last been proven wrong. You have shown me that there is still forgiveness and trust among our kind and I do believe that I have fallen in love with you, provided that a creature like me can feel and know love after my strange and broken life. I cannot speak with you in words yet, and I regret that I must ask this in a letter, but I would be honored if you would consider being my mate and creating a family together. 

Much love, Vos.

Misfire was at a loss for words, swallowing dryly. Vos nervously turned his gaze away, fearing that he had said too much too soon. Thankfully his worries were remedied when Misfire tipped his chin up and gave the skinny mech a genuine smile. 

“I love you, too, Vos. Let’s make that family happen,” Misfire murmured, taking Vos’ collar and unlocking it with the fingerprint scanner. “You’re not a pet. I don’t even think I saw you as a pet for most of the time we’ve been together. Maybe in the beginning, but not anymore. We’re equals and we’re gonna have an amazing life.”

Vos laughed from the excitement and joy he felt, the first time he ever had expressed himself in such a way. No one had made him feel so welcome or loved as Misfire had and it showed, the gun-former pressing their lips together in a meaningful kiss. 

They pulled away when they needed to vent, Misfire surprised to feel the pads of Vos’ thumbs on his cheeks. They were brushing away what appeared to be happy tears of washer fluid. Misfire huffed, quickly pushing Vos’ hands away so he could rub away the wetness himself. 

“I wasn’t crying, that was just a weird leak I must have sprung.”

Vos chuckled, lightly kneading his claws into Misfire’s chest seams. Misfire pressed a kiss into Vos’ warm forehead before he leaned back on the couch and put on his famous cocky grin. 

“So, since the topic of kids came up…how many do you want? I’m hoping for at least three. I grew up with four siblings, so I like the idea of big families! Speaking of them, have I ever shared the memory files with you? It was crazy back when I was little! Carrier was a grounder, some kind of big hauling truck from the mines that had a fling with a fighter jet. So my brothers and I were actually happy accidents!”

Vos nodded, tapping his helm to say he wanted to see the memory files. He didn’t reply about how many sparklings yet because he honestly didn’t know what he wanted. He would be happy with anything, really, so long as it included both himself and Misfire in the grand design.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is major character death in this chapter! You've been warned!

Tesarus went on a miniature rampage, flipping over the couch in the common room when Crankcase had the nerve to tell Ramjet he wouldn’t do the same thing to him. “Oh, so you’re only going to mess up with me but make things good for your next pet?! You sick frag, I’ll rip your head right off your body!”

Tesarus’ collar buzzed a warning and he ignored it, his X-shaped optics blazing. He wanted Crankcase dead. He wanted him to hurt as much as he did, if not even more. Ramjet had started to make little growls at him, the Seeker trying to act tough to protect his master. That only made the grinder more furious, hands balling into tight fists. 

“You’re defending a rapist! You’re just as messed up in the head as he is!”

“He’s not bad! Crankcase saved me! He got me out of a dumpster when I was left for dead like some old piece of trash! He might have done bad things to you, and there’s no excuse for that, but he’s changed and tried to do the right thing with me!”

“He changed too late for me, so whatever you say means nothing,” Tesarus rumbled, lumbering towards them in a menacing way just as the ground bridge suddenly opened behind him. Tesarus whipped around to see who it was, his mood changing when he saw it was Helex and Fulcrum, the smelter cradling the K-Con in his larger set of arms. 

“Guess who’s back!” Helex called, noticing the mess that had been made in the common room but thankfully not addressing it. He assumed it had been Tesarus’ doing and didn’t want to set the other bot off even more. 

“Thank Primus!” Tesarus exclaimed, his attention turning from Ramjet and Crankcase to greet the bots he had missed so much over the past two days. It had felt like an eternity waiting for them to come back and the smelter was thrilled that they were both okay. “I was getting worried you left me here.”

“Helex, I don’t need to be carried around.”

“But your neck…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry yourself over it.”

Helex grumbled something under his breath but did set Fulcrum down. The K-Con steadied himself on his pedes before he opened his arms to Tesarus, glad when the tan and red mech swiftly gave him a hug and dropped whatever fight he had been invested in only moments before. He spotted Ramjet and Crankcase slip away to their apartment, the pair taking the moment to avoid further conflict.

“Did you stay with anyone while I was gone?”

“Vos and Misfire. But I was kinda a massive third wheel so I’m glad you’re back. I like you and Helex way better,” Tesarus said firmly, grinning when he was punched lightly in the upper arm by Helex. 

“Good. Can’t get rid of us easily!”

“Hey, Fulcrum?” Tesarus asked as they walked to the Scavenger’s apartment. “Can you take my collar off, too? Like you did for Helex? I’m pretty jealous of his being off.”

Fulcrum took a moment to answer, wondering if it was a good idea to release Tesarus after he had clearly had a temper tantrum in the common room. Helex had always been calmer and less volatile. It took longer to set him off and encourage an attack. Tesarus, on the other hand, was much more willing to get into a spat and Fulcrum worried whether or not he could trust the grinder to behave himself.

“So long as you promise not to cause trouble. Would you have hurt Ramjet and Crankcase if the collar had been off?” he asked carefully as he unlocked his apartment door and walked inside. Tess made a low rumble, scratching at the collar. The tag with his name and information on it jingled quietly, drawing a glower from the huge mech.

“You want an honest answer?”

“I would prefer it, yes.”

“Then yeah, I would have killed them. So…so I guess I gotta keep this thing on until I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“I’ll take it off when we’re all together in the apartment, but when we leave I think it’s safer if you have it on. But I promise the minute you feel like you won’t maul Crankcase I’ll take it off for good,” Fulcrum replied, hoping that Tesarus would understand. 

“Sounds fine to me. I’m just sick of it, being a pet and whatever,” Tesarus grunted, kneeling down so Fulcrum’s gentle hands could undo the collar. The grinder rumble-purred when the device finally fell away from his neck, reaching up to rub at the exposed protoflesh. “Frag, this feels so much better.”

“I’m glad!” Fulcrum said, offering a bright smile to the other bot. “Do you want to try making a new dinner I read about while I was recovering? It’s a sort of cadmium stew that sounded good.”

“Sure,” Helex grunted, secretly loving the whole dinner ritual. He liked eating it more than making it, but the event was a good bonding exercise for all of them. 

Plus, it made things feel so normal after the whole assassin business. Fulcrum was back in his apartment acting like nothing had happened, which made things a great deal calmer. The K-Con had gotten to know Helex and Tess well enough now that he could avoid some of their triggers. Getting riled up and upset made the pair become aggressive and set off their deeply engrained trait for bloodlust, so finding peaceful activities was the best way to keep them calm. 

Helex and Tesarus were on their best behavior as it was because their buddy was back. They kept an optic out for danger just in case, but the domestic scene in the kitchen kept them all occupied. Once they had concocted a dinner (one that no one really thought was good but pretended it was to be good sports), they all headed to the living room to watch the holo screen and talk. 

Fulcrum found himself in between the two largest members of the DJD, the grinder and smelter not overly cuddly but certainly affectionate in their own ways. Helex’s smaller arm was draped casually yet protectively over Fulcrum’s shoulders while Tesarus’ side was pressed up as close to the tan and orange mech as he could get. There was an unspoken agreement among them that they could trust one another, that no one there was out to cause harm. It was a beautiful thing and it made Fulcrum smile. 

If this was what love was, he hoped it would never end. 

***

Tarn and Krok returned to the apartment complex later into the evening. Tarn had taken some time to shake off the sedatives, but now that he was free of medications he was content to return to Krok’s apartment. He idly touched his collar, the device still wrapped snuggly around his neck just below a small incision that had given him back his Outlier ability. 

“Thank you, Krok,” he purred, leaning down to nuzzle into Krok’s helm. “I will sing to you one of my favorite songs. It was always close to my spark.”

“I look forward to it!” Krok said, his battle mask hiding a smile. “How about I take that collar off? It looks like it’s rubbing against your new stitches.”

Krok trusted Tarn and in moments he had removed the tank’s collar, freeing him completely. The purple and black mech rumbled and sweetly coaxed Krok to the berth. He rolled them onto it, pinning the smaller mech under him. Krok pulled back his battle mask, his lips meeting Tarn’s as their limbs tangled together.

“Now…now I will sing to you my song. It made me who I am today,” Tarn whispered, lips brushing Krok’s throat cabling. The leader of the Scavengers shuddered, making a low chuff of anticipation for more than just a song. Usually when Tarn got like this their encounters became much hotter and more intimate. 

Tarn then began to sing. His voice was silken and deep, his Outlier ability caressing the living soul hidden beneath Krok’s chest plates. Tarn could see the spark, the dominantly purple energy tinged with yellow pulsing to the new rhythm Tarn set. He could hear Krok gasping quietly as he sang, the song picking up in volume. 

Tarn placed a big paw of a hand on Krok’s chest and leaned in close, his optics burning like hellfire as he regarded his former owner. Krok’s vermillion optics stared back, a brief moment of confusion in his expression as the voice manipulating his spark became harsher. In a matter of seconds Krok was choked with agony, his frame spasming and jerking as he desperately tried to get out from under Tarn’s frame. 

“Tarn….Tarn! What…are you….doing?!”

Tarn’s song ceased only so he could answer, the tank nuzzling Krok’s cheeks that were wet with washer fluid tears. Many cried when they felt their sparks being so violently tormented, so Tarn thought no less of the Scavenger’s leader for breaking down. 

“I’m going to kill you. Then I will liberate all my hunters, my brothers, my DJD! I never loved you, Krok, not for a moment. I want you to die knowing that I simply played your broken spark like an instrument until I got what I needed from you,” Tarn hissed, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. “Decepticons are worth nothing unless they can lie.”

Krok tried to scream, but his voice was cut short as Tarn picked up his singing yet again and constricted his victim’s spark. Krok’s vocalizer shorted out as he howled in silent agony, the torment like nothing he had ever experienced before. His hands clawed uselessly at Tarn’s impossibly heavy frame as he felt his very soul get torn asunder by the Outlier’s vile gift.

Tarn soon grew sick of Krok’s thrashing, so he took one of his massive hands and broke the bot’s neck with a sharp twist, Krok’s frame going still yet his optics wide in horror. He could feel everything, but the tank had made escape impossible. 

The Empyrean Suite filled the room as Tarn drew his favorite song to a close, ending Krok’s life with it. His vocalizer power ripped into Krok’s spark like the jaws of a feral wolf, tearing the soul apart with a hate and viciousness that the tank had hidden away so expertly behind soft words and gestures. No longer would he need to grovel and bow before another mech! 

He was his own master.

Tarn flung Krok’s body from the berth like a piece of garbage, watching the limp and gray frame clatter to the floor. He rose from the place he had shared so many nights with Krok, feeling no hint of remorse as his right pede stepped on the Scavenger’s corpse and crushed it. Krok’s armor buckled under the weight and his internal struts broke, the body soon oozing energon from pierced protoflesh and ruptured internals. It was a gruesome sight, yet Tarn only felt better for it. 

The unhinged tank’s armor rose on his frame, his optics wild with excitement. He was free! He was going to bring back the Decepticons to their former glory and pave the way for peaceful tyranny! Panting and nearly hyperventilating from the rush of adrenaline and ideas running through his head, Tarn strode confidently to the apartment door, flung it open wide, and headed over to the apartment next to Krok’s.

***

Kaon had woken with a start from his nap, rolling over in a panic to find where Spinster was. His hands brushed warm plating and he relaxed, having had such a terrible nightmare. He felt the aerial stir and then wrap him up in protective arms. 

“What’s wrong?” Spinister asked, pressing his cheek to Kaon’s.

“Spinister, I had…I had a terrible dream! I imagined that Tarn was singing again,” he whispered, wrapping shaking arms around Spinister’s neck. “I can’t stand to hear the Empyrean Suite any longer thanks to him. It was terrible.”

“He’s not going to get you, though. I’ll fight him off,” Spinister assured, a hand sliding down to Kaon’s slightly rounded and very vulnerable middle plating. “I’ll make the world safe for you, just like you made it safer for me.”

“Spinister, if you ever hear that music, turn your audio receptors off and refuse to even register the fact that sound is being made. It’s the only way you can be safe from him. In my dream you weren’t safe. He destroyed you like he did to so many other bots and it tore me apart.”

“Kaon, it’s okay. I’m still here,” Spinister said, touching noses to Kaon’s. “We’re okay.”

 

Kaon still had a hard time shaking off the dream, refusing to go back to sleep or remove his arms from Spinister’s neck. For once their roles were reversed, the paranoid mech being Kaon and the calmer one being the helicopter. Spinister didn’t seem to mind, softly talking to Kaon and reassuring him that things were okay.

Kaon was just starting to calm down when he heard it. The Empyrean Suite melody was coming from the apartment next to theirs, for a brief second the electric chair wondering what Tarn was doing in Vos’ room. Then he heard a struggle, Vos’ frantic Primal Vernacular paired with Misfire’s gun going off enough to send him into action. 

“Spinister, run! Get away from here, he’s going to kill you!” Kaon gasped, grabbing Spinister’s hand and yanking the mech off the berth. He found hidden strength to manhandle the larger bot only because he was desperate to keep him from Tarn, shoving Spinister out of the apartment and into the common room. “Don’t warn the others, just run!”

Spinister was so stunned by what was happening that he didn’t react right away, the helicopter taking out his gun and turning towards Misfire’s apartment where the horrible music was coming from. It made him sick to hear it even at a distance, the mech’s rotor blades slicking down against his back. 

“Kaon, you have to come, too.”

“No, Spinister. I have to try and stop him before he kills everyone. I might be able to talk sense into him or at least buy you some time,” Kaon said, jaw set sternly before he went to enter the apartment where Misfire and Vos were being tormented. 

Spinister followed close behind despite all of Kaon’s pleas, insisting that if Kaon was going into danger, so was he. Sire coding was not to be trifled with.

“Aaah, Kaon! I was wondering when you would join me,” Tarn’s voice crooned, the tank currently looming over Misfire’s frame. The jet’s legs had been broken at the knee joints to prevent him from running while Vos was screeching wreck held tightly under one of Tarn’s arms. The mech was clawing and biting like a trapped feline, Tarn’s side bloodied and raw. He didn’t appear to feel it though, his bloodlust too strong to allow pain to register. 

“I do think Vos was becoming too attached to his captor. I believe the correct term for it is Stockholm’s Syndrome, where one falls in love with their abuser. He wrote Misfire a love letter. Disgraceful,” Tarn spat, tossing a data pad at Kaon before he turned to regard the red and gold electric chair.

Kaon couldn’t see Tarn’s expression, but it was one of true disgust when those burning optics took in the sight. He right away saw Kaon’s middle and snarled, tossing Vos across the room like a child’s toy. The scientist hit a far wall back-first, his old injury causing the nerves from his hips down to cease working. Half paralyzed, the mech keened and started to claw himself across the floor in what felt like an endless struggle towards Misfire. 

He eventually made it to his lover, his optics meeting the agonized and petrified ones of the jet. Misfire extended a shaking hand to Vos, not saying a word. His expression conveyed everything clearly enough. Vos’ fingers tangled with his, Misfire pulling the gun-former close to his side, his entire frame shaking with pure terror. Misfire then felt washer fluid tears roll uncontrollably down his cheeks, realizing this was the end. There was no getting out. No one was going to be able to save him or Vos or…or anyone.

“I think this is it, buddy,” he whispered, watching as Tarn turned on Kaon like the mad beast he was. Spinister was batted aside like he was nothing, the tank essentially unstoppable. “I love you so much, Vossy.”

“Missssffyyre,” Vos whimpered, curling up beside him so that their cheeks touched. “L…lovvve you.”

Vos watched as Tarn caught Kaon in his grasp, roaring when he was electrocuted yet refused to let go. It was like Kaon was going up against an enraged bear, the mechanimal wounded but unwilling to leave his pray. Tarn dragged Kaon away from Spinister when the helicopter tried to shoot him, Tarn showing his dentas as two of the bullets hit their mark and bit into his armor seams. Bleeding but only more infuriated, Tarn slammed Kaon down on the floor and placed a hand on his rounded middle. 

“You had better not have Carried for the Autobot on your own accord. I will be /very/ disappointed in you if that is the case, Kaon!” Tarn hissed, pressing down hard on Kaon’s middle. He intended to kill the sparklings and honestly, he wouldn’t mind killing Kaon, too. He was not loyal! He was tainted and had been too easily molded into what the Autobots wanted him to be!

“Spinister!” Kaon screamed, his middle aching as Tarn came close to rupturing his gestation chamber from the pressure of his hand. “Spinister, kill him!”

Spinister leapt at Tarn’s frame with renewed vigor, swinging the barrel of his gun down on Tarn’s helm. He beat the tank with it as hard as he could, the weapon breaking from the force of the blows. Then Spinister dug the fingers of one hand into Tarn’s neck while the other balled into a fist and repeatedly bashed Tarn’s optics in an attempt to blind him. The tank roared, rearing back to shake Spinister off. It was enough for Kaon to roll out of reach and clutch his middle, his spark hammering in his chest. 

They had to get away but there was no stopping Tarn now. Not unless they had more help.

Kaon stood up and nearly fell over when his valve and gestation chamber stung from Tarn’s attack. The sharp pain wasn’t enough to stop him, though, the blind mech stumbling as he made a run for the door. Spinister clashed with Tarn as Kaon darted by, the Sire mech giving it his all to protect Kaon and his offspring. Tarn was trying to use his voice to destroy Spinister, yet the helicopter had heeded Kaon’s advice and had shut off his audio receptors and blocked any thoughts about hearing things. His battle was a silent one yet fueled with intense hate. 

Tarn was not going to hurt anyone else again, most of all Kaon!

Kaon fumbled his way through the common room until he came to Fulcrum’s apartment, sensing three life energies inside. He slammed his fist against the door until it opened, the gold and red mech almost falling on his face when the solid surface disappeared. Fulcrum caught him, helping support the mech.

“Kaon, what’s happening?”

“Helex, Tesarus! Tarn’s free of his collar, he has his voice back, and he’s killing everyone!” Kaon shouted, sensing the two huge brutes were close by. 

“We’ll fix that,” Tesarus growled, pushing past him and charging towards the racket that was going on inside the other apartment. Helex hung back for a few seconds, snarling softly. 

“Fulcrum, you have to trust me. Run. Don’t stop for anything if you want to live. You have to get out of here!” he said firmly, pushing Kaon and Fulcrum towards the apartment’s ground bridge. “We’ll deal with him, but until he’s dead you have to be somewhere safe.”

Helex plugged in the first coordinates of the bridge he could find, not knowing where they went to, and proceeded to push Kaon and then Fulcrum through, his gaze meeting the K-Con’s for a second before he forced him into the swirling transportation device. He wished he could have said something, to let Fulcrum know how much he loved him and all that, but he couldn’t find the words. 

The mech then shut down the bridge and broke it with a mighty swing of his fist, praying that if Fulcrum and Kaon did find their way back, they would only be met with carnage and not an alive Tarn out for blood and revenge.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More character death coming your way!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wants some intense soundtrack music to go along with the story, here's what I was listening to during Tarn's rampage/fight scenes:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgiWP9NKEd0
> 
>  
> 
> And here's the OST I listened to when writing the final scene with Helex and Tarn <3 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tiu3tQeFMxk
> 
>  
> 
> (((All credit goes to the composer of the music, Nathan Furst!!!)))

Fulcrum and Kaon found themselves in Ratchet’s med bay waiting room, Helex having punched in the most frequently used coordinates in the apartment ground bridge which sent them there. The poor mech at the front desk startled from their sudden arrival, dropping the data pad he was holding with a deafening clatter. Sandstorm and Octane who were once sitting calmly in the waiting room also spooked at the entry, the triple changer’s massive wings knocking over the empty chairs closest to him, his optics wide. What was going on?! Sandstorm didn’t seem to know, the orange and yellow bot giving Fulcrum and Kaon a curious look. 

“Are you…okay?” he asked cautiously, seeing how both mechs were in a total panic. 

“No! No, we’re not okay! We need to call some Enforcers NOW before Tarn destroys everyone!”

“Tarn? You mean like DJD Tarn?” Octane asked, nervously shifting in his seat. “Frag, wait a sec, you’re Kaon! I’ve heard about you!” he yelped, spotting Kaon’s empty optic sockets and leaping out of his seat.

“Octane, it’s alright, they’re not going to hurt you!”

“Sandy, you have no idea what that monster is capable of!” Octane bleated, grabbing his owner’s hand and pulling him as far away from Kaon and Fulcrum as he could manage. “Stay behind me, I’ll protect you!”

“Octane, quit it. I don’t need protecting, you big lug nut!” Sandstorm said, trying to stop the triple changer from making a scene. Octane liked to act big and tough but really he was absolutely harmless. 

-Prowl! Prowl, you’re not going to believe this, but Tarn is on a rampage in our apartment! He must have turned on Krok or something because he’s out of his collar and has his vocalizer unchipped. He’s trying to kill everyone!- Fulcrum commed on the emergency line to the Enforcer. -Kaon and I got pushed through the ground bridge by Helex since he was trying to save us but we’re heading back there now. We have to stop Tarn before he murders everyone and gets out!-

Fulcrum was rambling, having taken Kaon’s hand to lead him out of the med bay and into the street. The blind mech was confused and overwhelmed with the noises and unfamiliar footing, stumbling a few times on his way back towards the apartment. 

“How far away are we?” he asked Fulcrum, hearing the K-Con panting as he sprinted through the busy streets. 

“About twenty minutes and I don’t have an alt mode that can get us there any faster. Primus, I wish I could turn into a car!” Fulcrum replied, forcing himself to sprint. It was hard and his frame was not exactly meant for speed, but he needed to push himself to the limit. 

Helex and Tesarus and Misfire…all his friends were in trapped in there with a killer. He needed to be with them and do something to help. He felt his optics sting with washer fluid, furious yet thankful that Helex had pushed him through the ground bridge. The mech might have saved his life, but what good was life when he couldn’t share it with his friends?!

He heard sirens in the distance and suddenly two police cars pulled up beside them, one dominantly black while the other was a familiar black and white. 

“Need a lift?” Barricade asked, opening his front doors to Fulcrum and Kaon. 

“We’ll get there in less than two minutes. The rest of the squad is on the way,” Prowl reported as Fulcrum helped Kaon into Barricade’s alt mode and shoved himself in soon after. The mech didn’t make a comment, but he was only offering to give them a ride because Prowl told him he had to be decent. Being helpful was not exactly one of Barricade’s stronger qualities.

“Prowl, do you know about Tarn’s Outlier ability?” Fulcrum asked over Barricade’s open com as they sped towards the apartment. 

“Yes. I have done my research on the way. I have informed the rest of my squadron that he is extremely dangerous. We’re going to distract him so my sniper can take him out.”

“Make sure you tell everyone to shut off their audio receptors and only communicate with their coms. Tarn can’t destroy your spark if he can’t make you hear him. They have to completely reject their audio capabilities, though. It’s a mental thing as well as a physical one,” Kaon explained, Prowl swiftly sending out Kaon’s exact words to the rest of the Enforcers who had been called in. 

“Understood. And thank you. With luck we will not lose any good mechs today,” Prowl said curtly, making Kaon’s spark sink at the thought of Spinister fighting alone. 

They might very well lose the best mech Kaon had ever met.

***

Tesarus charged into the fray without a second thought, tackling Tarn just as the tank was about to pummel Spinister into scrap metal. Tesarus was larger and heavier than Tarn, so his weight threw the mech back and caused them both to crash onto the ground. The grinder grabbed Tarn’s shoulders and wrestled the purple and black mech firmly into the floor. 

“Tarn, what are you doing?! These guys aren’t the enemies!” 

“You have been ruined just like the others! Tesarus, do you forget the rape? The torment Crankcase put you through? Kill him. Kill them all with me. I came to free you, to liberate my dearest friends!” Tarn exclaimed, optics wild and overly bright. It reminded Tesarus of the times when Tarn had jacked up on circuit speeders or Syk or a multitude of other hard drugs. 

“Tarn, you’re losing your mind! Get a grip!” he shouted, pointing a finger at Vos. “You hurt Vos! You’re damaging the bots you’re calling your friends! The bots you’re trying to free!”

Tarn laughed, the mech clearly off the deep end. He reached up and gripped Tesarus’ upper arms, shaking him feverishly. His hands buckled the armor plating there since he was using so much force, Tesarus wincing at the tank’s intensity. He was still hoping he could talk the brute down, but it was looking less and less likely.

“He wrote a love letter to an /Autobot/, Tesarus! He’s been warped by their plot to neuter the Decepticon cause and make our soldiers weak and ineffectual! It might have worked on Vos and Kaon, but I won’t be a player in their pathetic game! I won’t be fooled!”

Tesarus couldn’t believe what he was hearing, wondering what had set Tarn off. Then again, maybe it was a multitude of things. The tank had always been so uncharacteristically calm and controlled for his frame type. Tanks were usually known for quick tempers and rampages driven by an instinctually bred urge to fight. For thousands of years Tarn had held himself back from his inner nature, but now it seemed like all the dams had broken and the tank’s mental state had deteriorated beyond repair. 

“Tarn, where’s Krok? He’ll talk this out with you! You guys were always talking together.”

“Oh, Krok? Krok’s dead,” Tarn hissed, flashing his dentas in a vicious smile. “I killed him. I broke his neck and sang to him a parting song. He was never my lover, my friend, or my owner. He was merely an obstacle I had to find my way around.”

Tesarus was at a loss for words, not sure what he should say. Then he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Tarn, you…he /loved/ you! Did that mean nothing?!”

The grinder knew he had messed up when he said the word ‘love,’ watching as Tarn’s expression turned murderously on him. The trigger was clearly the emotion of love, something that Tarn was incapable of feeling after his thousands of years of conditioning to be a cold, calculating murderer.

“Oh, so you have also been corrupted with that hideous emotion as well as the others? I expected better of you, Tesarus!” 

Before the tan and red mech could react, Tarn had grabbed his X-shaped optics with a speed no tank should have and broke them, rendering Tesarus completely blind and in fierce pain. The mech roared in agony, his vision blacking out while the broken optics bled from severed lines, energon now rolling down his face and into his open mouth. 

Snarling, he shook his head as if that would rid the agony and began to maul Tarn in a literal blind rage. He and the tank tore at each other with a ferocity that was so savage, so brutal, no one would have said they weren’t mechanimals had they seen them biting and clawing one another on the floor. Tarn began to use his voice and gripped Tess’ spark in a vice grip, the grinder shrieking as he recoiled and tried to shut off his audio receptors before it was too late. 

“You are finished! Yet another filthy stain on the Decepticon badge that I can wipe clean for our glorious Lord Megatron!” Tarn bellowed, Tesarus’ screams becoming more agonized and frantic as his life energy was attacked. 

“I always hated your singing,” Helex’s voice suddenly snapped from behind Tarn, the smelter bringing down his pair of larger fists and swinging them into Tarn’s helm with a mighty crack. He sent the tank reeling away from Tesarus, the newly freed grinder gasping and dry retching as he clutched his chest plates. He had never been on the receiving end of Tarn’s ability and certainly never wanted to be again. He heard Helex move to meet Tarn, the two clashing together in the middle of the apartment. 

Furniture overturned and a table broke as Helex stumbled and fell onto it, dragging Tarn down with him. He grabbed the mech’s helm and bashed it into the floor, one of his favorite fighting techniques, and then opened his smelter to douse Tarn in the molten metal. Tarn howled, the brute’s chest plates and shoulder treads starting to melt and warp. Tarn retaliated by kicking Helex in the open smelter, heavily damaging the mech’s internal components and breaking his smelter door.

Tarn then tried to use his ability on Helex but found the mech had blocked him out, the tank raising his arms to guard against two harsh punches Helex threw at his faceplate. Tarn smirked, the agony of his burning frame only making him want to win more. The stench of melting protoflesh and cabling was in the air, driving Tarn wild with excitement. He wouldn’t be stopped by Helex, even though he had to give the mech some respect for his tenacity. The bot had always been smarter than Tesarus, making him a highly formidable heavyweight fighter. Usually the larger models weren’t known for their intelligence, but Tarn was glad to know he would at least have a worthy adversary for his last battle.

The pair threw each other around the room, ripping armor plates off and mauling the other as close to death as they could. Vos had to drag Misfire out of the way as Helex came crashing down only inches from where they had been laying before, Tarn swift to leap onto his frame and tear away a pectoral armor plate and one side of Helex’s collar guard. Misfire was desperately trying to shoot Tarn as he watched the tank ravaging Helex, but true to his name he missed every single time. It was like he was in a nightmare, unable to fight back against the monster hiding under the berth. Vos hissed, trying to transform into his gun mode. If only he could then Misfire would never stray from his target again!

Helex punched Tarn so hard in his lower middle that he was rewarded by breaking the mech’s fuel tank, the leader of the DJD snarling as he reeled backwards and off of Helex’s downed frame in visible pain. It gave Helex the moment he needed to roll to his pedes, rising to meet Tarn’s next attack. The purple and black mech lashed out soon after, grabbing one of Helex’s smaller arms and tearing it right out of the bot’s body, the socket and muscle cabling tearing out with an audible pop. Strangely enough Helex didn’t even feel it, the smelter more intent on defeating Tarn than his own pains.

Sadly for him, Tarn was in much the same mindset. The tank latched onto Helex’s helm with his powerful clawed hands and pulled them close so their faceplates were nearly touching. He tapped the mech’s audio horn to say he should turn them on, not sure whether or not Helex ever did as he began to speak.

“Crucible…I know you can read my lips if you have not turned your audio receptors back on. You will /never/ know who you were before you became my hunter. I remember those times you would ask me, your brain module not fully lobotomized as Megatron and the others had hoped. You were too smart for your own good! But now, if you kill me, you will only know life as Helex, as a Decepticon who strayed from your one task and for that…for that I must end you just like all the others who failed our glorious cause.”

Tarn surged forward into Helex and grabbed the mech by his shoulders, swinging him closer to a large window he had been eyeing for some time now. The tank beat Helex back with a flurry of punches, forcing the heavy mech ever closer to his demise. Helex fought hard, but he was damaged and his reactions were slowing down. His missing arm was bleeding profusely and his smelter had been broken badly enough that his own smelting metal was leaking into his insides and burning them. The pain was beyond excruciating, Helex’s brain hardly able to register how much agony he was in. The smelter was nearly numb from it all. 

That and he had heard every word Tarn had spoken. He said nothing in response, but his spark ached when he realized he would indeed be unable to find out who Crucible was before he became Helex. He would never have a way to know, not unless Tarn chose to tell him…which he wouldn’t. It was an act of torment to say such a thing, to let Helex’s troubled mind gnaw over his hidden identity, the identity he was just beginning to discover with Fulcrum’s help.

The tank noticed Helex was distracted and took the chance to get a good uppercut to the purple and yellow mech’s jaw, disorienting him with ease. Then Tarn seized the opening he had made, taking advantage of Helex’s unbalanced state.

“Do you believe in Primus, Helex?” Tarn suddenly asked as he hurled the smelter into the window, a cascade of shattering glass raining down on their frames like a bucket of spilled diamonds. 

Helex shouted with surprise and horror when his arms caught nothing to stop his fall, the mech flailing desperately for something to latch onto and stop him from sliding out of the broken window. Their apartment was about eight stories high, so a fall would surely to kill him should he slip the rest of the way outside. 

The purple and yellow mech was grateful when his left hand latched onto the window pane, the shattered glass there shredding his palm to ribbons of torn protoflesh. He didn’t feel a thing as his energon gushed from the new wound, the mech’s optics purely set on Tarn. The tank swore when he saw his pray was refusing to die, leaping onto Helex’s torso to wrestle him the rest of the way out of the building.

“I will choose how you live and how you die, Helex! Do not fight me! ” Tarn spat, his faceplate inches from Helex’s. Energon leaked from Tarn’s helm and pattered onto Helex’s cheeks, even a few strings of drool from the tank’s frothing mouth ending up on the smelter. Helex set his jaw in determination and suddenly wrapped Tarn in a tight hug, trapping the killer in an unbreakable embrace while he let go of the window pane, his single lifeline.

“No, Tarn. I get to choose how YOU die.”

Helex let his weight combined with Tarn’s pull them out of the window. The smelter was a ground frame, so the fact that he was falling was absolutely terrifying. He was weightless for what felt like an eternity, careening ever closer to the ground. They spun in the air from their momentum and at one point Helex was sure they were going to land head-first on the pavement below. He finally shut off his optics, deciding he would rather think a final thoughts about Fulcrum than gaze into the sky and ask Primus for forgiveness. 

He figured he would be judged and sent to hell or Pit or whatever place was reserved for the damned. But at least Tarn was going, too. He could take small comfort in that. The tank would never hurt anyone ever again, a triumphant smile on Helex’s lips as he and Tarn at last met the ground. The last thing Helex experienced was a flash of white hot pain followed by the most comforting and warm memory of him hugging Fulcrum on the couch that one peaceful day, their foreheads pressed together in a silent gesture of affection and unspoken love. 

***

-Prowl, we have a jumper. Scratch that, we have two- Springer commed, having come with his two comrades from the western sector of New Iacon. He was just in time to witness Tarn and Helex fall from the apartment complex and collide with the ground with a sickening crunch. The Enforcer drew his gun and hurried to see what the damage was. He assumed both mechs were dead, but he needed to be careful regardless. It often took a lot to kill Cybertronians.

-Affirmative. Approach with extreme caution- Prowl commed back as he raced onto the scene. Red and blue lights flickered across the mangled bodies and pooling energon as the Enforcers approached, Barricade and Prowl skidding to a stop as close as they dared to get. Tape had already been put up to protect the crime scene, an EMT transport pulling in with sirens blaring.

Fulcrum peered out of Barricade’s front windshield and thought he saw familiar plating colors, his optics widening with horror and his energon tank sinking with despair. Helex was there. Helex was on the ground and clearly must have been damaged battling Tarn.

“Don’t hurt him!” he blurted out when he saw guns pointed at the two still frames near the sidewalk, fumbling to get out of Barricade’s alt mode and scramble past the Enforcers to the gristly scene. “Helex won’t hurt anyone, I promise! It’s Tarn that’s the dangerous one, the tank! Only shoot the tank!” 

Fulcrum shoved past Springer and one of his coworkers to find his worst nightmare. Helex and Tarn were both so badly damaged that it looked as though they were both dead. Tarn was most certainly dying, his frame already starting to turn gray. Helex was still sporting his coloration, but a very lackluster and pale one. Voice choking up, Fulcrum tore himself away from bots who tried to hold him back, the K-Con sprinting to Helex’s side.

“Helex?” he whispered, a hand ghosting across the smelter’s helm. The mech was surprisingly not badly damaged on his torso or helm, but his arms were entirely crushed and rendered less than scrap metal from the impact. Surely the fall had caused a great deal of internal bleeding as well, but Fulcrum held on to hope that his companion would be okay.

“Helex…big guy, I’m here,” he said, shaking hand petting the smelter’s helm. His thumb and forefinger rubbed one of Helex’s golden audio horns, the tan and orange mech hoping whatever gods out there were hearing his prayers. 

‘Primus, please…please let him live! Call Mortilus off! I can’t…I can’t lose Helex. He’s just barely started to live and find out who he is again!’ Fulcrum thought, turning his face to the sky in a weak hope that their deities would hear. Not many believed anymore, but Fulcrum had always thought there had to be some greater design to life and mortality. Death couldn’t be the end for them. He refused to think like that.

Fulcrum suddenly heard a raspy wheeze and saw handsome yet cracked optics focus on him, Helex offering a weak and bloody smile. Energon dribbled from the corner of his mouth and out his nose, the purple and yellow mech indeed suffering from internal trauma. Even so, he was trying to show he was still kicking, that he heard Fulcrum’s voice.

“Helex! Hold on, they have emergency medics coming on the scene now,” Fulcrum assured, cradling the mech’s big helm in his hands. “Keep breathing, I’ve got you. Kaon’s safe and they’re sending in the Enforcers to get the others. Just stay with me, big guy. Focus on my voice. Focus on me.”

Helex drifted in and out of consciousness, woken often by the pattering of washer fluid tears on his cheeks that dripped off Fulcrum’s chin and nose. Once again Helex wished he could say something, yet he was unable to formulate any words. All he could do was hope for survival and equally hope that he could figure out how to tell Fulcrum he loved him someday.

The K-Con waved the emergency medics to where he knelt with Helex, panicking when the smelter slipped away into unconsciousness and his coloration faded closer to gray. Fulcrum was a hysterical mess at that point, emotions getting the better of him as he tried to follow the medics while they hauled Helex into a transport.

“Sorry, sir. You can’t come.”

“He’s my friend, I have to go with him!” Fulcrum insisted, trying to push his way past the two EMTs. 

“No can do. We have to airlift him and there’s no room in the transport for ya.”

“He’s my pet, I need to know where you’re taking him!” Fulcrum insisted, getting a stupid hospital address card passed into his pleading hands. 

“He’ll be at this hospital. And I gotta say, you have one hellova pet to take a hit for the team like that. He killed the bad guy, so at least that’s one less thing to worry about. He’ll be made comfortable at New Iacon Trauma Care.”

Fulcrum said nothing, simply collapsing on the edge of the bloody sidewalk to cry, holding his head in his hands as he silently begged for a miracle.


	23. Chapter 23

Kaon was grateful that he couldn’t see when Barricade led him into the mess that was their apartment. Krok and Tarn were both pronounced dead on the scene, Prowl already working on their files. Vos and Misfire were sent off in a transport to Ratchet’s med bay since their damage wasn’t as bad as Helex’s. Tesarus would have gone with them had he been willing to cooperate, but the blinded mech had worked himself into a fearsome rage and refused to be treated or touched by anyone he didn’t know.

“Put a hand on me and you get it torn off!” he spat, knocking over an EMT and an Enforcer as they tried to get close and subdue him. The tan and red mech showed his dentas, his bloody faceplate making him look twice as formidable. Thankfully Kaon took control of the situation, feeling partially numb from his overwhelming sea of emotions as he strode calmly over broken furniture and puddles of spilled energon to gently take Tesarus by his wrist.

“Tess, please go with them. I want you to be okay. We lost Krok and Tarn already and we might lose Helex, too. Don’t you dare neglect your health,” he said firmly, giving the grinder’s arm a little tug. Tesarus huffed, flaring his armor in frustration. 

“Kaon, I can’t see where they’re gonna take me.”

“Welcome to my life,” Kaon said, offering a smile the other bot couldn’t see. “Just trust me. They’re not the enemy.”

“Fine. But if they take me to the auction house or something sick like that I’ll make sure I find you and rip you a new one. Got that, little bastard?”

“Loud and clear. Go get better, Tess.”

Kaon released Tesarus’ wrist and relaxed slightly as he heard the mech lumber off with one of the EMTs at last. The gold and red electric chair was about to call out for Spinister, but the helicopter had already found him. Kaon squeaked when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind and hug him in a backwards embrace, a familiar scent and warmth enveloping him.

“Spinister,” he murmured with relief, tilting his helm into his mate’s. “Are you hurt?”

“Not too bad. I fixed myself and put Vos in a back brace before they took him away,” Spinister assured, hands sliding down to Kaon’s middle. “Are you hurt? You and the little guys?” 

“One of the EMTs scanned me and said the protoforms are so tiny they’re completely unharmed. If I had been further along we would have had trouble, but besides being sore I’m quite alright and so are the bitlets.”

“Good,” Spinister sighed, the aerial ushering Kaon over to a chair to make him sit. “Stay here in case I need to shoot someone. They’re all watching us and I don’t know who is an enemy!” 

“No!” Kaon yelped, grabbing Spinister’s hand so he couldn’t take out that stupid gun of his. “No shooting anyone, Spinister. I’m so sick of hurting each other! I want to do something else! All I know is death and hate and the scent of spilled energon! Spinister, I don’t want to only know that anymore.”

“I get it,” Spinister said, forcing himself not to get overly paranoid about the strangers milling about the apartment complex. “I’ll try to be good and not shoot people…even if they’re suspicious.”

“Thank you. Trying is what matters.” 

Prowl and Barricade came over to discuss what they wanted done with the bodies, Kaon saying they could throw Tarn to the canids while Spinister insisted that they get Krok’s disk once he was smelted down. It was how their kind traditionally handled deaths. The bodies of the deceased would be melted into round disks that could be set outside in a special place to slowly rust away or they could be kept in a loved ones subspace.

“We’ll be back tomorrow morning to deliver the disk. There’s nothing more to write down since it’s pretty easy to figure out what happened during the fight,” Barricade said, watching as Prowl did his usual crime scene ritual. “He’s just doing all that extra stuff to show off now, if you were wondering.”

“Barricade, it’s time to go. Help me remove the bodies,” Prowl finally called, pulling the mech away from Kaon and Spinister.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming…”

Kaon and Spinister were then left alone in the apartment, sitting in the common room. The Enforcers had all left and the EMTs had taken away all their friends. They were the last ones standing, Spinister nervously preening his rotor blades while Kaon clasped his hands together in his lap, sightless optic sockets focused on the floor. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight, Spinister.”

“Me, either,” Spinister replied, leaning over to nuzzle his faceplate into the top of Kaon’s helm as he always did. “Let’s talk. Tell me a good story. Something that makes you happy.”

“Well…I once had a pet turbo fox named Pet. I’ll tell you about him.”

“Okay,” Spinister said, settling in for the chat. 

It was their lame attempt at normality, sitting with their bodies pressed close together like a pair of huddled mechanimals in a dark, cold forest. They could only trust one another and take shelter in the warmth of a kindred spark, their hands clasped together palm to palm as their words fought back the emotions of fear.

***

Helex remembered some vague things on his way to the fancy hospital. Someone said that he was lucky because Tarn’s body hit the ground first and took the brunt of the impact. It had ruined both sets of his arms, but they were replaceable. Internal bleeding was bad, though. Helex remembered that internal bleeding hurt, too. It hurt like a bitch. 

“Easy, buddy, you’re done fighting for a while,” someone said gently when they opened his mouth for something. Helex tried to nip, growling a feeble warning. He didn’t like anyone touching him unless it was Fulcrum or Tesarus. “Yep, he’s bleeding from the mouth, Pulsar. I need a steroid and a good shot of clotting nanites.”

Helex let out a quiet yelp when someone stuck him with a shot in the upper thigh. Once again the smelter tried to fight back, his yelp morphing into a watery snarl. His vents were partially flooded with energon, the mech wheezing when he tried to catch his breath. He felt so tired, so sick of being in pain…

“Settle down, big guy. We need you to stay calm so you don’t bleed out,” the EMT said, calling for some more medical things that Helex didn’t understand or care to know. The mech slipped into unconsciousness after that, too tired to care what was going on. He figured he would either wake up alive or die in his sleep, so he let fate decide what his path was to be.

***

Fulcrum found his way to New Iacon Trauma Care on foot, the massive hospital looming in front of him like Mortilus himself. Helex was in there somewhere dying, all alone without anyone who truly cared to look after him. These doctors were just doing their jobs and had no idea what Helex had gone through! Fulcrum didn’t think he had any more washer fluid to cry, but by the time he had made his way up the steps to the waiting room, his golden optics were brimming with tears.

The femme at the front desk was a pretty sports model, her door wings flicking back when she saw the state Fulcrum was in. He looked exhausted and run down, his pedes covered in energon and other liquid gore while his hands shook and also showed signs of being near blood. 

“Sir, are you alright? I can call for a doctor to see you right away if you’re having an emergency.”

“No, no…I’m here to ask about Helex,” Fulcrum said, making his weary legs plod closer to the desk so he could put down the bloody hospital card one of the EMTs had given him. He slid the printed metal to her, his optics turned down so she wouldn’t see how close to breaking apart he was. “Can you tell me what room he’s in? Or going to be in when his repairs are done?”

“Of course, I’ll check for his name right away. Please, have a seat,” the femme urged, reaching out and placing her hand on top of Fulcrum’s. “You need the rest.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to rest until I know he’s okay, but I’ll try.”

The femme smiled sadly, the knowing expression one she had gained from years of doing her job. Lots of bots came in asking for names of family and friends who never came out of surgery and she could tell by Fulcrum’s emotional state that she might not be able to give him the news he was hoping for. After doing some quick research, she did find they had logged in a patient named Helex and that he was currently alive but in unstable condition.

“Sir, we have a team of highly skilled experts working on your friend, but he’s still in surgery. His room will be C154 when he’s out if you’d like to leave a message for him or an item.”

“I’m staying until I can see him,” Fulcrum said simply, ignoring almost everything the femme said. 

“Sir, you can’t stay in the waiting room all night…”

“Then I’ll wait on the steps outside. I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s okay.”

Fulcrum was true to his word and stayed as long as he could in the waiting room, having to be escorted out once the hospital closed the waiting area for the night. He tried to argue, but security was having none of it and promptly showed him the door. Once outside, Fulcrum plopped himself down on the front steps of the building and hugged his knees to his chest, his frame starting to shiver from the cold. Cybertron’s nights were always chilly. It was silent in the city now that it was so late, Fulcrum taking out a piece of pectoral armor from his subspace. He rubbed his thumbs over it, smearing his washer fluid tears across the polished surface, remembering Helex’s pride when he had given him the battle trophy.

The femme hurried past him on her way out, not sure what she should do or say. So she decided to be silent, scurrying past him and into the night. Fulcrum didn’t bother to check the time, but he was sure it was some ungodly morning hour. 

Fulcrum ended up falling asleep out on the steps of the building, catching a few hours of rest before he woke with the morning light. He could barely move his limbs since they were so cold and stiff, but once he got his joints working he forced himself to his pedes and waited impatiently outside the waiting room until someone came to open it. It was a different worker this time, the sedan mech raising an optic ridge when he saw Fulcrum.

“You okay, mech? No one ever shows up here at the crack of dawn.”

“No, I’m not okay, actually. I need to know if my friend is still alive.”

Fulcrum waited to hear the report on Helex, his optics tired and lackluster. He needed sleep but he knew there was no way he’d be able to rest until he was sure his companion was alright. The sedan grunted when he saw the mech was still in surgery, wondering what had happened for the doctors to work on him for so many hours. 

“He’s alive but still in surgery. If I were you I’d come back tomorrow. It looks like they’re doing a lot of work on him. They mentioned having to reconstruct multiple arms and says here that his internal components were heavily damaged.”

“He was thrown out of an eight story building. I get how it could take a while but can’t they go any faster?” Fulcrum said, the statement coming out more as a plea than a demand. The sedan shrugged. 

“You’re not the only one waiting for a friend, mech. But I’m sure they’ll finish up pretty soon.”

Fulcrum felt like screaming, but he kept his cool and once again set up camp to wait for news that Helex was repaired and in the recovery room he was already assigned. At some point he fell asleep, passing out from pure exhaustion. He had tried his best to remain awake, but his frame finally put an end to his worrying and forced him to rest. 

“Sir, your friend was just moved to a recovery room. You still have one hour if you want to visit him today.”

“Wha- what’s happening?!” Fulcrum yelped, leaping up out of his chair in a startled flurry of limbs. The mech who had been working the desk gestured with his head to the hallway. 

“Your friend is out of surgery and you fell asleep in the waiting room for half the day. So if you want to go visit him quick, his room is still C154.”  
“Thank you,” Fulcrum whispered, briefly hugging the sedan from elation before he bolted out of the waiting area with Helex’s room number memorized like a mantra. He said it silently over and over again in his head until he reached said room, knocking on the door before entering.

He got no answer, no nurse or doctor inside when he used the key code he had been given to enter. Fulcrum’s knees grew weak when he saw Helex laying in a heap on the berth, the smelter’s arms reconstructed but clearly in need of more work. They were void of armor still, the internal components and protoflesh requiring time to knit back together with repair nanites. 

“Helex?” he called, seeing the mech was knocked out from pain medications at the moment. “I was so worried about you but I’m glad to see you’re out of surgery. I thought…I thought you were going to die, Helex.”

Helex’s yellow-gold audio horn flicked when he heard his name, the smelter trying to claw his way back to the conscious world. It took some time to battle through the haze of medication and sedatives, but when he did the mech made a low rumble-purr at the sight. Fulcrum was there, sitting right beside his medical cot. 

“Hey, traitor,” Helex murmured, voice hoarse but affectionate. “Glad you came.”

Fulcrum had no hope of stopping the tears now, the mech wrapping his arms around Helex’s thick neck and hugging him. He didn’t say anything because he simply couldn’t get his vocalizer to work. He was too choked up and when he did finally gather the power to speak it came out broken and punctuated with sobs. 

“Hey…don’t cry over me. I’m okay, Fulcrum,” Helex scolded gently, wishing he could move his arms and wrap Fulcrum up in a hug. The little guy really needed it, his frame shaking as he broke down. 

“I was so worried! I couldn’t sleep knowing you were taken away somewhere I couldn’t get to! Helex, you were so damaged…I never want to see you like that ever again,” Fulcrum said, feverishly trying to rub away tears while cradling Helex’s heavy helm in one arm.

“I’ll try to stay out of trouble,” Helex mumbled, yawning widely right after. His IV drip was laced with heavy sedatives so it wouldn’t be long before he stopped fighting to stay awake and slipped back into recharge. “Hey…traitor…get on the berth. We can sleep here like we always do.”

“Helex, we’ll get in trouble!”

“Don’t care and neither should you.”

“Good point.”

Fulcrum climbed onto the cot, sliding his smaller frame up against Helex’s newly repaired chest. He was careful not to lean too heavily on the other mech lest he aggravate his healing wounds, but Helex insisted on being pressed tightly together. He assured Fulcrum multiple times that it didn’t hurt, his faceplate nestled into Fulcrum’s nape.

“Night.”

“Goodnight, Helex. When they try to kick me out, please don’t make a scene.”

“Pfff…I’ll just kill ‘em. No scene or fanfare at all. They’ll just be dead and I’ll get to keep you.”

“Helex…” Fulcrum growled, lightly scolding the smelter while Helex yawned again and then settled into recharge. Fulcrum rolled over so his chest was pressed up against the larger mech’ side, Helex’s warm exvents brushing against his throat cabling while the sleeping giant nestled his faceplate under Fulcrum’s chin. 

“Sleep well,” Fulcrum murmured, following the other into recharge soon after.

A nurse came in to check on Helex’s vitals and noted on the medical file that the smelter was apparently allowed to keep the visitor in his room. How that had gone through she had no idea, but the sedan at the front desk had insisted that it was perfectly legal and that visitors could stay overnight if they had filed a special request. So the doctors and nurses worked around the sleeping pair, treating them as a unit instead of single entities.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I just realized I forgot all about Crankcase and Ramjet during the fight scene with Tarn in the apartment. Soooooo I have decided they were getting takeout for dinner *flies away*

“Pssst. Vos, you awake?” Misfire asked, the jet laying on a medical cot next to the scientist. Ratchet had given in and allowed the two to be in close proximity considering what had happened in their apartment. The trauma of being apart might be stressful and therefore the medic had made an exception to his usual rule. Normally no patients should be too close to each other during recovery lest they contract viruses or other troubles from one another. 

He insisted his breaking of the rule was a one time thing and that he was not going soft, hoping that First Aid and the others wouldn’t see through the grouchy exterior he had worked so hard on. 

“Yessss,” Vos crooned back, his sharp claws kneading into Misfire’s blanket when he reached over.

“Guess what?”

“Hhhmmm…whhhat?” Vos hissed, rolling onto his side so he could face Misfire with his intelligent ruby optics. Misfire grinned, sliding an arm across the cots so he could poke the slim mech on the shoulder.

“Helex fragged up Tarn real good and he survived falling out the window! Ratchet just got his medical files from the big hospital and I overheard him talking about it. Isn’t that great?”

Vos purred in response, his sharp little claws curling around Misfire’s hand yet not once drawing blood. He was both a terrifyingly fierce yet passionately gentle creature, his touch light and extremely non-threatening. Misfire couldn’t stop smiling, inching his way a little closer so they could potentially curl up together. Misfire wanted things to be the way they had before Tarn had lost his mind and gone on a killing spree.

“How long are we going to be here for, do you know? With your back messed up and my knees busted I have a feeling it’ll be a few days. What do you think, Vossy?”

Vos chattered away in Primal Vernacular, making sure to say something nasty when his nickname was used. His claws at last pricked Misfire’s hand while the gun-former’s optics narrowed to say he was not impressed. Misfire swatted him away, sticking out his glossa. 

“Pfff, I know you’d never actually hurt me…Vossy.”

Misfire yelped when Vos decided it was time to bite, the skinny mech giving Misfire’s wrist a good nip like an annoyed feline. Misfire swore and shook his hand, checking to see if the little imp had drawn energon. Thankfully he hadn’t, but there was a small dent left behind. The jet reached out and roughed up Vos’ helm in a loving way. 

“You’re awful,” he snickered, getting a low churr and then something in ancient language that he couldn’t hope to understand. “But I love you lots and I’m glad we both made it out of that insane fight.”

“Misssfyyyre,” Vos purred, still pronouncing his name a little differently than the jet was used to, but he honestly had started to love how Vos said it. Then again, pretty much anything Vos said or did these days Misfire thought was fabulous. He was in the honeymoon phase of their rather odd relationship and he was loving it.

The jet cuddled Vos once they had inched close enough to do so, wrapping his arms around the smaller mech with a soft sigh. Misfire nestled his faceplate against Vos’ helm and murmured something about never wanting to let go, the lithe sniper rifle crooning sweetly back. He stroked Misfire’s side, trying to offer support. 

“I hate this IV thing in my hand, it’s getting in the way,” Misfire growled, tugging angrily at a line that had now gotten tangled around one of his wings. “Can you reach it? For some reason /you/ didn’t have to play the part of a living pincushion.”

Vos chittered something that sounded close to ‘Yes, I can’ before he pulled himself halfway on top of Misfire to fix the IV line that had wrapped itself around the flier’s wing tip. The sensitive appendage flicked responsively under Vos’ touch, the small mech chuckling quietly as he made sure to give Misfire some rubs.

“Hey, now…better watch what you stroke, nerd. I’ll get all worked up and then won’t be able to follow through to get rid of my charge. My knees are so sore that I don’t think I could frag you even though I want to.”

“Misssfyyyre,” Vos chortled, rubbing his cheek against his mate’s as he slid back down to cuddle in close. “Feel b…betttter.”

“You too, buddy. And you know, I really have to commend you for doing so well with Neocybex. You’re learning it way faster than I expected!”

Vos glowered suspiciously, unsure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. Misfire noticed the look and put his hands up in pure innocence.

“Hey, I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I’m impressed that you learn so fast when you put your mind to it. Smart guy,” the magenta and purple mech exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t made Vos feel bad. “Finally you have a reason to want to learn the speech of commoners, huh?”

Vos rolled his optics at that comment, taking out his data pad to type a message that read: “No, Misfire, it is not the language of commoners because you speak it fluently and clearly there is nothing ‘common’ about you…PS. /You/ are a nerd. /I/ am a scientist.”

Misfire laughed, cupping Vos’ chin in his hand and stealing a kiss. The sniper rifle had kept his terrifying ‘torture face’ as Misfire liked to call it off and was comfortable enough around his lover to keep the battle mask he had behind the torture device pulled back. He did indeed have a mouth, but had done a masterful job at keeping it hidden away before now.

“I still think you’re a nerd, but whatever. I’ll let you win this time,” Misfire snickered, hugging Vos to his chest but making sure he didn’t push down on the slim mech’s back. He was recovering from spinal strut surgery and had only recently started to willingly cuddle. When he had woken up the gun-former had been in too much pain to want anyone touching him, even Misfire.

Misfire massaged Vos’ shoulders and felt the tense little mech relax after some tender loving care, feeling the purple and white frame lean more heavily into his arms. Misfire caressed Vos’ sleek helm when he saw the other mech was almost asleep, his optics dulled and half shuttered.

“I’m making you a little too relaxed, huh?” he murmured, kissing Vos one more time on the cheek before he also settled down. They could talk later and bug each other. Right now it was most important for them to recover. 

***

“Heya, Crankcase! Come on in!” Atomizer said, opening the door to his apartment when he heard the doorbell. “I’m really sorry to hear what happened at your place. It’s gotta be pretty awful in there, so you can stay as long as you need to with Swift and I.”

“We didn’t even get to help in the fight! We left to get dinner and when we came back there were Enforcers everywhere telling us it was a crime scene and that Krok and Tarn were both dead. Ramjet and I were were just trying to have a nice night and pick up takeout from this new place that serves Vosian food,” Crankcase said, his tone sounding haggard and exhausted. “Atomizer, we’re lost without Krok. He was the glue that kept our whole group together! I don’t…I can’t even think, my head hurts.”

“I can’t blame you. It sounds awful,” Atomizer said, ushering Crankcase and Ramjet into the apartment. “Make yourself at home here, okay? Did you guys already eat?”

“Yeah, we had that Vosian food and now I just need someone to talk to and take my mind off everything.”

“Alright, sounds good. How about I touch up your paint? That’s a good way to pass the time and Ramjet and Swift can play together. By the way, Ramjet looks striking with his new collar.”

Ramjet beamed when he was complimented, armor puffing up cutely as he tipped his chin up to display the diamond studded collar made of pure white turbo-bull leather. The Seeker knew he looked great, his plating recently polished as well.

“Thanks! I’m glad I won stuff ‘cause I totally deserved it,” Ramjet bragged, making Atomizer snicker. 

“Swift was in the living room last I checked. He’ll be happy to have a friend!”

Atomizer and Crankcase went to the studio in the apartment where Atomizer liked to mix and make paints, the mech chatting away in an attempt to make Crankcase feel totally at home and not as stressed. Ramjet figured he should go see the Genericon at that point, padding into the living room and spotting the teal and purple jet lounging a plush mechanimal berth. His helm popped up when he heard someone new come in and excitedly fluttered his wings.

“Ramjet, what are you doing here?”

“Bad stuff went down at our place. Tarn killed Krok and then Helex apparently threw himself and Tarn out a window and now Tarn’s dead. I dunno, it was a mess but I didn’t get to see any of the action,” Ramjet said, walking over to the other mech’s berth and sitting down with a huff in front of Swift. “The apartment is a mess and Crankcase didn’t want to sleep there. Makes sense to me, so that’s why we’re here now bugging you guys.”

“Nah, it’s fun to have someone new around! Atomizer and I were just having a lazy evening,” Swift said, all bright and full of smiles. His visor couldn’t hide eager optics as his wings swept wide in a playful stance. Ramjet’s wings flicked higher on his back, a signal that he was interested but also unsure. “Wanna spar?”

Swift was wearing a collar with two tags on it, the things jingling like crazy when the jet moved. He was sitting up hopefully in his mechanimal berth, wanting so badly to play with another bot. Ramjet could tell the Genericon was well trained and had taken to the life of being a pet well. It was a little sad to see a former frontline soldier in a mechanimal bed in a room strewn with various mechanimal treats and toys, but that was their life now. 

Swift had been one of the lucky mechs, that was for sure. Atomizer clearly adored him.

“Hey, you awake? You’re zoning out,” Swift said, poking Ramjet’s cone helm. The Seeker hissed a warning, wings changing to a sharply lowered display to express a very clear ‘watch it’ to the other aerial. 

“I’m awake. I was just looking at all the pet stuff around here. I thought you and Atomizer were equals.”

“I’m treated well, but we aren’t fully equals. Neither are you and Crankcase. We’re just their pets and have to play along. So I’ve gotten used to it and accepted the fact that I’m going to live like this for the rest of my life. I know it’s bad but I don’t even mind anymore. At this point it’s kinda fun, even.”

With that said, Swift made a playful growl and pounced on Ramjet, toppling them over so they were soon wrestling on the floor. The Seeker was much meaner than the jet when they played, biting pretty hard when he got the chance and not above going after the other mech’s wings. Swift rolled with the punches though, happy so long as he had a playmate. Just like two canids, they were content to roughhouse.

As they wrestled together, Ramjet started to notice how amazing Swift smelled. His scent was warm and inviting, a little like Crankcase’s but even better. Growling softly, the black and white Seeker followed Swift right into the cushy mechanimal berth when they finished playing and started to fuss over him, possessively curling around him. Just as he had thought he owned the skies when he was a soldier, Ramjet would try to lord over anyone and anything he liked as a pet.

Meanwhile, in the paint room, Atomizer was halfway through Crankcase’s new look. He was still the same colors, but more vibrant than before. The new cadmium yellow stood out well against a cobalt blue, the Scavenger admiring himself in the mirror as Atomizer worked around him.

“I hope Ramjet and Swift are doing okay. Swift has been acting a little funny lately.”

“How so?” Crankcase asked, raising an optic ridge. “I don’t want Ramjet getting a virus or something.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s a virus at all. He’s just been super playful and cuddly the last couple of days, more so than usual at least.”

“Huh, wonder what that’s all about.”

“I have no idea! Maybe he’ll get all his energy out with Ramjet.”

“Ramjet might not be as nice to him as he is to us…” Crankcase warned, not sure how Atomizer would react if he knew that Ramjet might be a little meaner than he originally thought. Amazingly the red and orange mech shrugged it off. 

“No worries. Swift can handle it and if he gets too in his faceplate Ramjet has every right to tell him off. Unless they’re actually trying to maul each other I say let them do whatever they want. They need to have their fun and blow off some steam!”

Crankcase was happy to talk more about their pets, learning that Swift had been bought for a considerably low price from the huge pet store that housed all Decepticons that weren’t deemed to be ‘special’ enough for an auction. Genericons, nameless soldiers, bots who had blander color schemes, and the most prevalent frame types ended up in the massive warehouse and would have to wait for someone to buy them like a sad mechanimal pup you might see in a store window. 

No one wanted them, but they were affordable and many Autobots had started to pick the cheaper Decepticons. A Seeker model like Ramjet would be worth hundreds of thousands of credits, his Vosian bloodline indeed a rare breed. Whoever had purchased him just to use the bot as a bait mech had been out of his head. Or he had really had a grudge against Ramjet. One or the other.

“Let’s go see what those two are doing. We can put on the news and see what’s going on around the city if you want,” Atomizer said, finally giving Crankcase the okay to move around once his paint dried. 

“Sounds good.”

The pair walked out of the studio to find Ramjet and Swift curled up together in Swift’s round mechanimal berth, the plush item situated against the side of the couch. Ramjet was leaning against the furniture, his striking white wings relaxed as he groomed the other aerial. Swift’s chin rested over the edge of the berth, a sweet purring coming from his throat.

“Looks like they’re getting along really well!” Atomizer laughed, happy to turn on the holo screen and settle in to watch some news. “So, what did that fancy Mirage guy ask you about at the pet show? He’s one of the richest bots in New Iacon besides Tyrest and a couple others.”

“He wanted a breeding contract for a ‘new champion’ for more pet shows,” Crankcase snorted, curling a lip at the idea. “He wanted Ramjet to Carry, too. It was an insult to him considering the judge thought he would make a great stud and that Thundercracker was actively trying to upset him. I turned him down.”

“For real?”

“Yep, Ramjet’s not a breeding mechanimal.”

“Would you let him stud, though? Because I think he and Swift are having a bit of a romp and Swift’s not fixed up with a gestation barrier. So happy accidents could happen if they’re not paying attention…” Atomizer said sheepishly, having glanced over at his pet to find Swift and Ramjet were busy, to say the least.

“WHAT?!” 

Crankcase leapt up off the couch and hurried over to see what was going on. He was shocked to find that Ramjet was contentedly settled over Swift’s back, the larger Seeker mouthing and nipping at Swift’s nape and wings as he calmly rolled his frame against his current partner. Swift was purring, surprisingly quiet as he was coupled with, the mech arching and pressing himself back against the Seeker’s frame. Ramjet was indeed fragging him, his position and the almost inaudible, wet sounds of valve and spike sliding together registering for Crankcase. 

“Ramjet, no! Bad! Get off him right now!” Crankcase snapped, reaching for Ramjet’s collar. “Atomizer, I’m so sorry about this. I had no idea he was a sex crazed lunatic—Ow! Damn it, Ramjet!”

The Seeker snarled possessively when Crankcase’s hand got too close to him and Swift, biting down hard. His new collar shocked him for the bad behavior, but he shook it off with a loud hiss of displeasure before continuing with Swift. The slightly smaller jet was crooning now, the special aerial dialect clearly not meant for grounders to understand. It seemed to make Ramjet happy, though, the mech picking the pace while he nibbled at Swift’s wingtip.

“Let them work it out, it’s cool. They’re both enjoying themselves and hey, maybe we can follow their lead,” Atomizer said, giving his friend a sneaky look. Crankcase snorted, shoving the red and orange mech on his shoulder.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” Crankcase said, not fighting at all as Atomizer pushed him over and settled on top of his frame. “We just fixed up my paint!”

“Yeah, I know, but we can fix it again…”

“Fragger,” Crankcase laughed, willing to have a round with his friend with benefits. Why not? He needed to loosen up and forget, if only for a little while, the horrendous and tragic mess that would greet him when he returned home.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sorta a transitionary chapter. Lots of emotional things to take care of and some new plans to discuss! I promise the next chapter will have some smut haha

Fulcrum was getting looks from all the medical staff, which made perfect sense considering he was practically camping out in Helex’s recovery room, but he wasn’t about to leave. Helex didn’t appear to appreciate the gawking either, the mech growling meanly at anyone who made comments about how the ‘visitor’ would need to head out that night. 

“He’s not going anywhere. Fight me,” the smelter growled, his arms currently being fitted with armor plating again. The doctor glowered behind his visor, not enjoying dealing with his stubborn patient whatsoever. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to cease the threats. You will be on your way shortly.”

“I won’t shut up until I’m sure you won’t mess around with Fulcrum. He’s /my/ problem, not yours.”

The doctor said nothing in response, only working faster and more efficiently on the mech’s repairs. He also made sure to send a vicious glare at Fulcrum, who had been kept as close to Helex’s frame as the purple and yellow mech could manage. The brute had already driven away two nurses who had tried to take Fulcrum away, the K-Con flinching under the gaze when they bustled through the room. He and Helex were not popular.

“Helex, please. Be civil,” he whispered, the smelter snorting loudly at him.

“Only when I’m back home and they leave you be.”

Fulcrum sighed, hoping the doctor could get Helex fixed up soon. He didn’t want to spend any more time in the hospital and hadn’t been able to talk to the rest of the Scavengers after what had happened. His best friend was in Ratchet’s care with two broken legs, Tesarus was having his optics repaired by a specialist, Crankcase was out somewhere with his new pet, and Spinister was a paranoid wreck trying to be a good Sire to Kaon. 

They were falling apart without Krok already.

The orange and tan mech leaned back against Helex’s side and felt his optics sting with washer fluid again. He was so frustrated, not sure what their next move should be. It was an agreed feeling that their compound was no longer a place they wanted to live, so they either needed to find a place they could all stay together or go their separate ways.

Fulcrum shook his head when Helex lightly nudged him with his smaller arm, the appendage fully repaired at this point. The smelter wanted to offer comfort but was unsure how to go about being that affectionate, most of all when Fulcrum rejected his efforts. Social things were hard! Helex had never thought about how difficult it would be to try relationships, having been taught from the start of his DJD conditioning not to form bonds with anyone. 

‘What am I supposed to say again? Something about discussing what he’s upset about, right? Yeah, that’s it. Do you wanna talk about it? That’s what they say in the movies and if the other bot says ‘no’ then you have to assume they’re lying and actually /do/ want to talk,’ Helex mused silently, his brain module trying to figure out whether or not this would be a good time to start asking stuff like that.

By the time he had debated with himself multiple times, the doctor said his arms were rebuilt enough so that self repair would be able to fix any remaining damage. That meant they could go home, or at least get out of the hospital. Fulcrum smiled tiredly as the doctor and his two nurses unhooked Helex from monitors and very carefully removed the mech’s IV (which he had made a massive fuss about and pulled out twice) and were glad to send him on his way. 

“Can we even go back to the apartment?”

“Kaon and Spinister have been staying there, but Crankcase took Ramjet to his friend’s house. So we can go back but I think the plan is to sell pretty soon. No one wants to live in a murder scene even if it’s all cleaned up. There are a lot of bad memories there.”

“But some good memories, too,” Helex pointed out, keeping silent about his aches and pains as they meandered their way out of the massive hospital and into the street. Fulcrum was distant, his optics staring ahead yet not truly seeing. Helex huffed, once again not sure what he should do or say. 

They made it back to the apartment compound and were greeted right away by Kaon and Spinister. The helicopter was clearly on edge, his right hand clutching his trusty gun while his left arm gave Fulcrum a hug. He even welcomed Helex back with a ‘thanks for killing Tarn’ before he took his place beside Kaon on the couch and waited for Fulcrum to speak.

“Spinister, I don’t think we should stay here. We need to get out, it feels evil,” Fulcrum groaned, Kaon nodding in agreement.

“It certainly doesn’t feel welcoming. How soon would we be able to move?”

“I can get the funds ready. Krok…left us well prepared with funds.”

“Will we be splitting up?” Spinister asked as he snuggled closer to Kaon. His gold and red partner leaned against his shoulder, appearing tired. Fulcrum rubbed the sides of his helm as he felt a headache coming on from stress and lack of recharge, unsure what the best answer was.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling we will be but we need to ask the others first. Is Tesarus back from his optic repairs?”

“He should be coming back soon. Ratchet had to make new optic glass in the right shape since you can’t exactly order replacement X shaped optics anywhere,” Kaon said, having gotten a call from the CMO for updates. “Ratchet or First Aid will walk him back to the apartment once the repairs are finished. After all, we have no ground bridge now.”

Kaon sneered the last part, aiming the jab at Helex. The smelter rose to the challenge, armor rising angrily on his frame like hackles.

“Like I had a choice! If I didn’t smash it you’d have both come running back through and gotten killed!” Helex snapped, growling at Kaon when the smaller mech gave him some lip. Spinister’s rotor blades rattled dangerously, the helicopter poised to attack.

“Stop it!” Fulcrum shouted, startling the others out of their surly moods. “We can’t start fighting each other! Helex, let’s go to our room. I need to think.”

Helex didn’t argue, the smelter instead following Fulcrum into their apartment. Even if the compound itself had taken on a less friendly air, their personal apartment still felt like home to Helex. The big mech relaxed when he entered the familiar berthroom and rolled into the berth, Fulcrum and Tesarus’ scent still on the blankets. 

Fulcrum had slipped into the kitchen to get something to eat only to fall apart after grabbing a cube of mid grade. He missed Krok. The mech had been like a Sire to him, the orange and tan mech remembering when he had been left for dead on the battlefield only to be taken in by the leader of the Scavengers. Krok had been a great support for the ragtag band of misfit Decepticons and now the thread that had held them together had been cut.

The K-Con set down his partially consumed energon cube and slumped over the kitchen counter, his helm in his hands. His throat tightened and he felt himself starting to cry again. He hated how pathetic it was, but he couldn’t stop. He had lost a good friend and very nearly had Helex taken from him, too. Fulcrum had been as strong as he could while Helex was recovering, but he couldn’t be strong forever.

The mech suddenly made a startled squeaked when he felt someone hug him from behind, a familiar warmth radiating from the larger frame. Fulcrum’s citrine optics were blurred with washer fluid as the smelter gently turned him around so they were chest to chest. Fulcrum only came up to the top of Helex’s smelter lid, but their size difference didn’t ruin the hug.

“Hey, uh…do you want to talk about it?” Helex asked awkwardly, using his smaller hands to brush away tears. “Or not. I can just hug you if that works better.”

“Just the hug for right now,” Fulcrum choked out, returning the embrace with a strong squeeze.

***

Crankcase and Atomizer had quickly come to he realization that Swift was in heat. His odd behavior had only been the start of his cycle, but now that the Genericon was fully in the clutches of breeding protocols it was easy to figure out what had been causing him to be overly friendly and affectionate. 

The moment Ramjet and Swift had finished their first romp in the mechanimal berth they had been separated to prevent any happy accidents. Crankcase had locked Ramjet in a guest room while he and Atomizer put Swift in his office. Once that was done, both Autobots turned to each other and sighed. 

“What now?”

“I have no idea. If they get back together you can expect sparklings,” Crankcase huffed, not wanting to deal with any bitlets at the moment. They were a huge amount of work and money, neither of which he wanted to spend.

“I can try to take Swift to get a gestation barrier put in. That way we can let them work out the heat with no worries about sparklings. Not to say they wouldn’t be pretty cute, but we can’t have bits around when there are words of change floating around.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not one for riddles,” Crankcase grunted, eyeing Atomizer carefully. 

“I was going to tell you this stuff sooner but those two got going before I had a chance. Crankcase, you and the other Scavengers aren’t the only ones who think it isn’t right to treat Decepticons the way most bots are. There have been some quiet mutterings of a revolution from some mechs I know. And I figured you’re trustworthy enough to get in on the secret!” 

“Atomizer, you know nothing can be done about what’s gone on. Tyrest and the others who somehow survived the war have made sure their power is secure after they made a new government. And don’t think for a second Prowl, Cliffjumper, Mirage—half of the Autobots—aren’t secretly supporting their side. Coups don’t stand a chance.”

“Sure, a lot of mechs hate Decepticons, but there are others who are starting to love them, too. You and the other Scavengers could add your support…”

“I’ll think about it,” Crankcase said, breaking away from Atomizer to go see how Ramjet was doing. 

He carefully opened the door and found the mech sitting unhappily in a chair, handsome white wings drooping. The appendages perked up though when he spotted Crankcase, them mech’s yellow optics brightening. Leaping up from where he sat, Ramjet trotted over to brush his wings against his master’s frame in an affectionate Seeker greeting. It reminded Crankcase of a feline who might rub against their owner’s leg when he or she returned from a long day at work.

“Hey, you came back for me!” he laughed, wings flicking to the sides. “I was worried you might leave me in here.”

“Nah, not a chance. I just wanted to make sure you had calmed down from the whole Swift thing.”

“I’m still pretty revved up about him, honestly,” Ramjet grunted, armor fluffing to signal some of his insanely strong possessiveness was still there. Even being apart from the other mech, Ramjet clearly had decided that Swift was his.

“Atomizer is taking him to the medics to get a barrier put in so you two can mess around as much as you like. But until they come back, you’re stuck with me.”

“That’s fine, I like you more. It’s just the heat scent is so fragging nice and I can’t resist,” Ramjet sighed, once again pressing close to Crankcase’s side in a display of friendliness. “I can tell something is bugging you though.”

Crankcase was indeed bothered by something. He was reliving the night when he had picked Ramjet out of the dumpster like a piece of mangled garbage, cradling the broken and bloody mech to his chest as he rushed him to Ratchet for repairs. Then he remembered the moment when he had knelt down in front of Ramjet’s recovery cell and been greeted with such overwhelming affection and gratitude…despite what had just happened to the Seeker at the hands of another Autobot.

“Atomizer was talking to me about some things that I needed to make a decision on. And I think I just figured out what I want to tell him,” Crankcase mused, reaching up to fondle one of the black and white mech’s wing tips. Ramjet crooned softly, leaning down slightly to give Crankcase a kiss on the cheek.

“Good. Now you can quit thinking about that and rub my wings the way I like,” Ramjet snorted, smirking when he got a glower from the other bot and was lightly swatted on the aft. He yipped at the sting, dancing out of Crankcase’s reach. “Hey!”

“I couldn’t help myself. Now sit down and I’ll give you that wing rub you’re so looking forward to.”

***

Tesarus came back to the apartment late, standing outside the door with First Aid for a few minutes before Fulcrum got up to let him in. The second he saw the orange and tan mech Tess made a deep sound of concern. He greeted him with a light punch to his shoulder, hearing First Aid shut the door quietly on his way out, the medic leaving them be.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Tesarus. Your optics look good as new.”

“Thanks. Ratchet did a good job on them even if he’s an annoying bastard,” Tesarus replied. “You look exhausted.”

“I am. It’s been a horrible couple of days,” Fulcrum sighed, rubbing the back of his helm. “But Helex is back and fully repaired, so that’s what matters. Tarn and Krok both died though.”

Tesarus chuffed, shifting his weight from pede to pede. “Can’t say I’ll miss either of them, to be honest. But where’s Helex? I want to see him!”

“He’s in our room.”

Great!” Tesarus exclaimed, lumbering off to surprise his best friend. Fulcrum didn’t hurry, already hearing the pair of brutes loudly reuniting with one another. A few seconds later their voices turned into growls and curses as they began roughhousing, slapping each other around on the massive berth.

Fulcrum was glad they were happy, taking comfort in the fact that the pair were safe. Even if he had lost Krok, he still had Helex and Tesarus. For a moment the mech had to think about how absurd that statement sounded. He, a formerly defected Decepticon who had been on the List, was grateful to have two members of the DJD share a room with him, one of whom had shredded Flywheels to strips of bloody metal and gore. Even so, Fulcrum strode over to the berth and was welcomed by both the former murderers.

Tesarus shifted so Fulcrum would have his usual spot between the two larger frame types, loud rumbles of contentment starting up from Helex. He secretly loved when it was time for recharge since it meant very close proximity to the K-Con. Fulcrum was swiftly spooned by Helex while Tesarus snuggled up chest to chest with him, the smaller mech giving each massive bot a chaste kiss goodnight on their cheeks. Tesarus stuck his glossa out and made a fuss about the gesture since he was not entirely sure how he felt about affection yet while Helex only proceeded to purr louder.

“Shut up, you’re so fragging loud!” Tesarus grunted, punching Helex’s shoulder in retaliation for the loud rumbling. Helex showed his dentas back, swatting Tesarus’ helm with one of his big hands.

“You shut up. Your snoring could wake up the city if I opened the window.”

“Frag you.”

“G’night, dumbaft,” Helex snorted, hushing anyway so Tess could drift off. He was a deep sleeper, so once he went down Helex could start up his ‘happy’ sounds again. Plus he liked it when Fulcrum was all his.

Fulcrum rolled over so he was front to front with the smelter, tucking his helm under the purple and yellow mech’s chin. Helex curled protectively around him, feeling Fulcrum’s tense frame start to relax when he was held tight. 

“Fulcrum?”

“Yes, Helex?” 

“Tomorrow will be better.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helex is totally a big softie behind all that gruff armor and molten metal <3 
> 
> Also, Conquered will be drawing to a close soon, probably another 6 or so chapters left (including an epilogue) until these guys find their happy endings! So the coming chapters will be a bit longer to fit in everything that needs to be said~

Helex did the unthinkable. He snuck out of the apartment very early in the morning and plodded out into the streets, no collar around his neck to mark him as a pet. He had made sure to rid himself of his Decepticon brand before he left as well to further conceal his identity, scraping it away so that no one would question his freedom. He had some very important work to do, so the brief escape was worth the risk. So long as Fulcrum didn’t wake up things would be okay.

The mech had no idea where to look for what he wanted, but he figured if he wandered around long enough he’d find a shop that would have something good in stock. Luckily the smelter was correct, Helex coming across a store that had just opened with the dawn light. 

He barely had any credits, but the purple and yellow mech was hopeful that he would find something worthy regardless.

“May I help you?” 

“Yeah uh…how much is that?” Helex asked, pointing at an item that had caught his optic inside the glass case at the front of the shop. He figured since it was being protected it must be special. 

“That is a rare piece. I will sell it to you today for two thousand credits!”

“Woah, that’s a lot of money,” Helex huffed, having a meager twenty credits in his subspace. “Are all the things in the case similarly priced?”

The whole time he spoke, Helex’s larger hand casually rested near another display stand that was open. His digits carefully curled around the item he had /actually/ taken a liking to, sliding it into his hand and swiftly hiding the stolen piece from view while he talked and pretended to haggle. He eventually said he would think about it, leaving the store with a trinket all the same.

He might have scraped off his brand, but he would always have some Decepticon tendencies.

Helex moved on from that store to try his luck at another, so proud of what he had swiped. He tried to buy two more items (which were both grossly overpriced) and ended up stealing again. As the sun rose and bathed the waking city in morning light, Helex decided it was time to call it quits on his little escapade, hustling back to the apartment without one of the things he had intended to pick up.

Cursing his bad memory, the smelter thought fast and improvised, praying it would all go over well when he returned to the compound. 

Helex snuck back inside, glad to hear Tesarus was still snoring and no panicking from Fulcrum. The K-Con had amazingly stayed asleep in the same position Helex had left him, having had to carefully detangle their frames before he briefly left the room. But now that he was back, he set down the things he had gathered in the kitchen and went to wake Fulcrum up.

“Mnnnn…what?” Fulcrum groaned, bleary optics gazing up at Helex. The mech’s golden-yellow audio horns flicked cutely to the sides of his helm, a sign that he was quite excited and also a bit nervous. “Is something wrong?” Fulcrum added in a whisper, not wanting to wake Tesarus up if he could help it. 

“I wanna show you something. But you have to shutter your optics.”

“Do I need to get out of the berth?”

“Yeah…”

Fulcrum muttered something slightly mean under his breath as he carefully got out of the blankets, clambered over Tesarus’ frame, and stood expectantly in front of Helex. 

“What’s this all about? You’re never awake this early. None of us are,” he said, yawning cutely. Helex patted Fulcrum’s helm, instructing him to shutter his optics once more. Fulcrum did as he was told, allowing Helex to lead him into the kitchen. 

There was some shuffling and then Helex’s famous rumble-purr started up. Whatever the mech had done he was very pleased with it. 

“You can unshutter your optics now.”

Fulcrum’s optic shutters opened, his gaze falling on something absolutely adorable yet also very confusing. Helex stood in the middle of the kitchen holding what appeared to be two zirconium chocolates from a free sample in the palm of his smaller hand, a torn up crystal bush clutched around the roots in one of the brute’s larger paws, the flowering bush currently dropping metallic chunks of Cybertronian dirt onto the once-clean floor as Helex presented it, and something Fulcrum couldn’t make out in the other palm of Helex’s huge hand.

“Helex, what’s all this about?” Fulcrum asked, not sure if he should laugh, question the behavior, or just let things play out.

“I saw this once in a movie,” Helex said, almost to himself as he inched forward and deposited the dirty crystal flower bush in Fulcrum’s hands and then slipped something around the orange and tan mech’s helm.

Fulcrum felt a coolness at his nape and glanced down to see Helex had put a necklace on him of some kind, a small platinum charm similar in shape to a military dog-tag hanging from the chain. Fulcrum gently touched the charm and brought it closer to his faceplate to read the three glyphs on it. It took no time at all to figure out what they said, the K-Con feeling his spark melt. 

The silence from Fulcrum had made Helex nervous, his purring turning into a deep sound of concern. Had he messed this up? Had the movie been wrong? He had expected a better reaction than stunned, awkward silence. 

Thankfully it seemed as though Fulcrum had only needed a few extra seconds to sort himself out, the mech setting down the bush so that he could tackle Helex in a hug. He reached up to cup Helex’s faceplate, standing on the tips of his pedes to place a kiss on the smelter’s slightly parted lips. Helex’s cheeks went red hot, but he brought Fulcrum into a tight embrace. 

“I love you, too,” Fulcrum whispered.

“I didn’t know how to say it for a really long time, but I wanted you to know in case…in case something bad happens to me. When I fell out of the window with Tarn I thought I had missed my only chance to say it. So…I love you.”

Helex picked Fulcrum up and cradled him in his arms, grinning with such pride as he regarded his partner. Fulcrum was also smiling like a madmech, the two of them absolutely lost in each other’s joy. It was a precious moment, their emotions shared yet unspoken. Sometimes there was no need for words. 

“Tesarus will be jealous,” Fulcrum finally chuckled, tucking the necklace under his chest plates so that it wouldn’t easily break or get lost. Helex snorted, rolling his optics at that. 

“I don’t care. He didn’t tell you and I beat him to it. So you’re mine,” Helex growled, a bit possessive as he nuzzled into the other bot’s neck.

“I’m happy that you’re mine, too” Fulcrum chuckled, smiling as Helex set him back down and proudly puffed up his armor. “We need to get some oil for the flowers you brought me, though. I don’t want them to die,” he added, the entire bush of crystal flowers currently sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“We can do that after.”

“After what?”

“After we celebrate!” 

Helex took Fulcrum by the hand and tugged him along into the wash racks. He turned on the shower and then faced the bot he considered to be his mate now (for a moment it was very odd for Helex to think of anyone in that way) and made a happy rumble. A big hand lightly patted Fulcrum’s back, urging him to come closer.

“I’m sure there’s some sexy way to say this, but I can’t figure it out. So uh…wanna frag? Y’know, to make it official and all that?”

Fulcrum felt his cheeks heat up, not sure how he wanted to react. Helex was nothing if not upfront about what he wanted. The smaller mech felt his frame tingle with a sense of longing, an urge that he wanted to fulfill. This was right. They weren’t master and pet anymore. They were equals seeking a deeper relationship with one another, hoping that the emotion of caring they felt was indeed love. 

The tan and orange mech placed a hand on Helex’s smelter, smiling when he saw the big mech’s audio horns were perked up as high as they could go in a signal of alert nerves. But when he was touched and saw Fulcrum’s expression, the smelter visibly relaxed. 

“Think it’ll fit?” the K-Con asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“We’ll make it work.”

“Helex, that doesn’t exactly sound comforting!”

“I’ll stop if something hurts, promise!”

The pair stepped into the wash rack, steam and warmth of heated oil washing over them. Helex’s purring started up again at the feeling and Fulcrum shuttered his optics as he turned his faceplate into the spray. The mechs were relaxed in the wash rack, feeling safe there together. It had been the first location where they had learned to trust one another, after all.

Fulcrum was going to say something when Helex’s strong frame pushed him up against a shower wall, the tile slick with oil at his back. The smaller mech gasped, his open mouth swiftly captured in the most intense and deep kiss he had ever experienced in his life. Fulcrum latched onto Helex’s chest plating as the smelter’s impressively long glossa skillfully claimed every inch of his mouth. 

When they pulled apart, Fulcrum made a soft grunt and nipped lightly at Helex’s chin. The larger mech rumbled, mouthing right back before licking Fulcrum’s cheek in a slobbery display of love. Fulcrum found it endearing rather than strange, a bit of a biter himself. 

Helex put up with the nips and the mouthing, only putting Fulcrum into his place once when the nip had drawn some energon from his neck. It was nothing serious, but Helex made sure to bite back with some force to say ‘quit that,’ and assert his dominance once more. He was simply allowing Fulcrum to be mouthy since there was no question who was in the dominant role of the relationship. Big frames often filled those positions.

“Enough teasing. Let’s see what else you can do with that glossa of yours,” Fulcrum snickered, his cocky grin turning into a fearful one as he was suddenly picked up under the arms by Helex’s larger hands. The smelter grinned deviously, licking his lips before he knelt down on the wash rack floor and held Fulcrum over his helm.

“Better open up, then.”

Fulcrum didn’t need to be promoted twice. The mech slid back his valve panel to reveal some very swollen and puffy outer folds, the protoflesh engorged from arousal already. Helex murmured his appreciation of the sight, watching as Fulcrum squirmed in his arms. He was a gorgeous mech and the smelter was thrilled to know that he was allowed to love him. He might not be perfect at the whole ‘emotion’ thing yet, but who he was in his prior life, who he /really/ was, felt peaceful at the thought of love.

Crucible…that bot had once known what emotions were.

Helex didn’t let himself be pulled into any deeper thoughts about his lobotomized identity, choosing to focus on his mate instead. He brought Fulcrum closer to his lips and dragged his glossa between those lovely folds to get a taste. Fulcrum gasped with need, hips bucking as he tried to get something inside his pulsing slit. Helex could see the outer rim opening and contracting already, seeking out a spike. 

‘Not yet,’ he thought, suckling on Fulcrum’s orange outer node. The sensitive valve equipment made the K-Con do all sorts of wriggling and begging for more, Helex unable to help himself from laughing quietly. 

“So eager! Fulcrum, you’re real cute.”

“A-aaah!-am not!” Fulcrum squeaked as he felt Helex’s glossa lick at him once more, the smelter coating him with oral fluid while oil pattered down on them from above.

 

“Ghaaaah! Oooh, oh H-Helex!” Fulcrum mewled when that glossa finally delved into the greedy slit of his valve, sliding deeper until Helex could go no farther. He rubbed the appendage across soft valve walls, trying to stimulate Fulcrum into a small overload before trying to introduce his spike. It would hopefully allow the mech to fit and not cause damage to the smaller bot. 

Helex grinned when he finally pulled away from Fulcrum’s valve, licking his lips before he brought Fulcrum close again for a hug and another claiming kiss. His armor plates flared, making him appear larger and more imposing. Fulcrum took the chance to run his hands across the ruffled plating, delving under the heavy armor to rub and lightly pinch at the vulnerable protoflesh underneath. Helex grunted happily into the kiss, more than happy to allow the touches. 

Soon enough the pair had slid onto the wash rack floor, Helex’s big frame shielding Fulcrum from being blinded by oil as he gazed up at the larger bot. Thighs instinctually spread when he felt Helex settle between them, trying to get a peak at the smelter’s spike but their angle and the larger mech’s fluffed up armor making it difficult. 

“Ready for this? I’m pretty big,”

“I think so,” Fulcrum laughed, giving his partner a kiss. “You’re such a braggart.”

“It’s true though!” Helex grunted, sliding off of Fulcrum so he could show off to prove his point. “See?”

Boy, did Fulcrum see. His optics locked onto the breeding organ, the impressive spike stiff and sharply tipped. Molten red biolights ran along the sides much like the ones on Helex’s cheeks, the smelter grinning when he saw his mate staring. 

“You’re perfect.”

“Thanks, traitor,” Helex purred, moving back over a somewhat awestruck K-Con and nuzzling his helm. “So…you wanna do this?”

“Yes!” Fulcrum exclaimed, even more eager now.

Helex used a smaller hand to guide his spike to Fulcrum’s valve, careful not to hurt his smaller companion. Rubbing the underside of the organ against the slicked protoflesh between Fulcrum’s legs, Helex felt Fulcrum’s hands cup his faceplate. Fulcrum was fond of doing that. It got the smelter’s attention though, stoping him from mounting after his thumb and pointer finger lightly spread plush valve lips apart. His spike waited eagerly between them, ready to be put to work.

“Helex? I have one quick question before we start.”

“Yeah?”

“When you were in the hospital and drugged, you kept telling me your name wasn’t Helex. Is that true?” Fulcrum wondered, watching a flicker of longing flash past in the huge mech’s optics.

“My first name, the one I was born with, was Crucible.”

“Do you remember that life?” Fulcrum asked, for some reason feeling that it was extremely important to ask.

“No, but I don’t know if I want to half the time. I found you in my second life and sure wouldn’t give that up,” Helex hummed, having thought about it for some time since Tarn’s comments. Did he even want to know who he truly was before the DJD? Or should he simply accept that as Helex he had entered into a new kind of life…a life with Fulcrum.

“I’ll love you regardless of whether you’re Helex or Crucible,” Fulcrum murmured, shuttering his optics as Helex bowed his helm and touched their foreheads together. 

“Whatever I did to deserve you after all the terrible things I’ve done…Primus, I’m glad for it.”

Fulcrum was going to respond but instead let out a low gasp, helm tipping back as he felt Helex push his hips forward and start the process of mounting. It took the pair a little longer than a couple of more equal size, Helex mouthing and growling quietly as he eased his spike deeper yet slowly enough for Fulcrum’s frame to adjust.

Fulcrum was vocal but not insultingly loud, the mech gasping and begging for more in feverish whispers. Helex had such wonderful command of himself, the smelter’s control to avoid a rut from the start very impressive. Fulcrum rewarded him with kisses and sweet pleasure noises until Helex finally sheathed his full length inside. 

“Helex, go as hard as you want.” 

“You sure?”

“I want to feel it tomorrow, if that’s an indication of how rough.”

Helex was happy to give Fulcrum his request, not holding back. He was rough but not in a damaging way, his hips clanging as he thrust firmly into his companion. The smelter mouthed lightly at Fulcrum’s throat, but mostly used his mouth to pant, glossa hanging out to the side as if he were a large canine. His internal smelting components always made him run hot even when not exerting himself, so the purple and yellow bot did end up using every method he had to try to cool himself down during the frag.

Fulcrum didn’t mind, although he was quite a nippy mech to Helex’s surprise. He often came across as a bit of a flighty bot, not wanting to get into trouble or be overly aggressive, but when it came to interfacing it seemed Fulcrum did have some fire. Helex liked it, trying to return the love bites in between loud chuffing intakes. 

The smelter was not only hot, but he was also not made for endurance just as many large models. So while he could be quite strong for short periods, he didn’t have a great deal of stamina. So as their coupling continued, Helex began to get jerkier in his motions, his rolling hips losing some of their former rhythm. Fulcrum’s valve rippled around Helex’s spike, trying to encourage him to overload. The tight heat combined with Fulcrum’s pleading sounds for more were hard to withstand, Helex trying to block some of it out so he could further pleasure Fulcrum and keep going.

“Can’t last much longer…” he panted, Fulcrum gasping when that godly spike slammed into him yet again and rubbed across all his internal nodes. It took him a few moments to collect himself before he replied. 

“It’s okay…you’re /amazing/ at this!” 

Helex smirked, feeling quite a strong sense of pride when he heard that. Before in the DJD no one had really been interested in his prowess in the berth. They had all wanted Tarn or Kaon, often leaving him in the background despite the periodic romps he shared with Tesarus. But to know that Fulcrum thought he was amazing? That was all he needed to hear to overload, his hidden praise kink just starting to blossom.

The smelter finished with a low growl, surprisingly hushed compared to Fulcrum’s loud wail of lust. The K-Con squirmed when he felt hot transfluid gush into the small space between his gel wall and the now engorged spike knot Helex was sporting. The breeding organ had swiftly locked them together, Fulcrum wincing when he felt the painful pressure and distending of his outer valve rim.

“Helex…oh frag…that was hot as hell but…you can’t move or you’ll rip me in two.”

Helex nodded, supporting himself over Fulcrum with his arms. The mech was as careful as he could as he lay them both down on their sides to avoid crushing the smaller mech under his frame, not caring that they were laying on the wash rack floor getting soaked with oil. It felt refreshing.

“I won’t rip you,” Helex assured, one of his smaller hands sliding between their frames so it could rest over the slight bump in Fulcrum’s middle. The transfluid that had become trapped between the knot and the gel wall had made visible roundness there and Helex honestly would hate to see it go. Fulcrum would look so well if he were gravid. 

Perhaps someday, someday when things were safe and their lives were steady. 

The pair remained stuck together on the floor for some time, although the minutes seemed to pass by quickly and before they knew it Helex’s once stiff spike became flaccid and the tie deflated enough so that they could pull apart. Fulcrum shakily stood up, a gush of transfluid mixed with his lubricant escaping his gaping valve. Some was tinged with a hint of energon, but it was minor bleeding from the stretched valve.

“I think we’ve had enough time in the wash rack,” Helex chuckled, turning off the spray once Fulcrum had rubbed off the streaks of white-silver transfluid on his thighs and valve lips.

“I think we may also have used up all the hot oil for some time,” Fulcrum added, not having realized how cold the oil had become until they finished their interfacing. Helex shrugged it off, stepping out of the rack feeling sated and pleased with himself. There was nothing better than the feeling of good sex!

“Who cares. We had fun and that’s what matters,” he said firmly, helping to dry Fulcrum off after the smaller bot aided him. It felt so domestic, so natural, that neither of them chose to speak as they fussed about one another.

“Are you two lovebirds done in there? I’ve needed to piss for about a half hour now,” Tesarus growled once the couple opened the wash rack door to find an irate grinder waiting for them. “And you woke me up, so frag you.”

“You could relieve your waste product in any of the other wash racks in the apartment, you know. Misfire and Vos wouldn’t deny you.”

“I shoulda pissed on your pillow,” Tesarus sneered, shoving Helex out of the way so he could claim the wash rack for himself. Helex and Fulcrum were to the living room area when they heard a loud snarl and some crashing from inside the rack. “FRAG it’s as cold as Unicron’s cunt in here!” 

Fulcrum raised his optic ridges at that, Helex simply shrugging off the vulgar curse like it was nothing. 

“He’s fine. He’ll get over it in an hour.”

“Are you sure? He sounded mad…”

“He’s a former DJD member, he’ll survive. Trust me, we’ve been through a lot worse than some cold oil.”

Fulcrum took Helex’s word for it, choosing not to ask the details. Some things were better left unknown.

***

Kaon had started to get sick that week. Spinister hadn’t been sure what caused it at first, snarling and snapping at the helicopter when he tried to get close and help. He was a medic, so he had a few ideas as to what had caused the purging and nausea in his mate. It wasn’t a constant illness, the kind that would normally be seen in fuel poisoning or allergic reactions, so it could only mean one thing: Kaon had fully kindled and the protoforms were starting to develop inside his gestation chamber. 

“Let me see,” Spinister pleaded, getting swatted at by Kaon’s hands when he tried to get close. 

“Not going to happen. Not until I’ve finished…huuurrrrrck! Uuuuck, /frag/ I hate purging!” Kaon gagged, throwing up the last portions of his lunch. “Spinister, I hate this.”

Spinister waited patiently until Kaon had purged everything, then helped his mate to stand. Kaon’s middle had grown visibly since their first night together, a sign that Spinister was taking his job as a Sire very seriously. He had made sure that his mate was full of transfluid to promote swift growth of bitlets and protoforms. Clearly his diligence to the task had paid off, Kaon progressing swiftly even for their kind. 

“Spinister, don’t poke at my middle. I’m sore enough as it is from losing my meal!” Kaon complained as the aerial started to paw lightly at the kindle-bump as some liked to call it. 

“Kaon! Guess what?” 

“What is it, Spinister?” Kaon asked, sounding bored and tired. Spinister’s guessing games were tiresome and had recently become annoying to the red and gold electric chair. His mood was fouled by the constant feeling of being sick, so he often took out his displeasure on his mate. 

“Do you want to know how many you’re Carrying or should it be a surprise?” Spinister asked, rotor blades rattling excitedly. Kaon’s expression softened, a small smile now appearing on his lips.

“I’d like to know,” he answered, curious now that the scans Spinister had taken were confirmed protoforms.

“Twins! We’ll be having twins, my dear,” Spinister crooned, nuzzling his cheek against Kaon’s before he led the smaller mech to their berth to sit him down. “We need to think up some names.”

“It’s a bit early for names, isn’t it?” Kaon chuckled, leaning tiredly up against Spinister’s chest.

“They’ll be healthy and make it to full term,” Spinister assured, snuggling his smaller mate. “We’ll make sure. So yes, it is time for names!”

Spinister rolled onto the berth, rotor blades flaring comfortably across the expanse of blankets and mattress. His claws hooked into the mesh, kneading it like a huge feline when he got an incoming com from Crankcase. Kaon was starting to follow his example, trying to cuddle up beside his mate’s warm frame.

-Yes?- 

-I’m coming back to the apartment with news for everyone. I won’t be staying, but Atomizer told me some things and I need to let everyone know what’s happening. Are Vos and Misfire back? And Tesarus?-

-Tesarus came back and Misfire should be returning shortly with his little devil- Spinister replied, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. What was so urgent that had galvanized Crankcase into coming back? As far as he had been concerned, Crankcase had chosen to leave and go his own way with Ramjet, the Scavengers nothing but a memory. 

-Good. I want everyone together because this is some important stuff. Ramjet and I will be there soon-

Spinister rolled off the berth, taking Kaon by the hand. 

“Crankcase is coming to talk about things. We need to listen and see what he wants to discuss.”

“So long as it doesn’t make me sick, I’ll be willing,” Kaon huffed, standing slowly before he walked hand in hand with his mate to the common room. Spinister got his favorite spot on the couch and then waited, wondering what the messenger would bring.

Spinister’s helm whipped around when he saw a surly grinder emerge from Fulcrum’s apartment, followed by Fulcrum and Helex. The trio sat down on the opposite couch, Tess snorting at Kaon’s middle. 

“How you feeling carrying around that extra weight, Kaon?”

The gold and red mech hissed. “Just you wait. When it’s /your/ turn I will make sure to pester you into oblivion, you stupid brute.”

“Ooooh, so it feels bad then? Figured,” Tesarus grunted, getting lightly shoved in the side by Fulcrum’s elbow. “What?!”

“Be civil,” he said crisply, trying to keep things from getting charged and aggressive. Tesarus was in a bad mood and Fulcrum wanted no problems.

Soon after sitting down the door to the apartment opened to reveal Crankcase and Ramjet, both mechs looking freshly painted and polished. Ramjet’s diamond and white leather collar stood out against his dark neck, the Seeker looking gaudy and clearly enjoying it as he strode inside with his companion. He squeezed into a chair with Crankcase and grinned, getting a long suffering expression from the blue and yellow mech for his efforts to be so close. 

“Are Misfire and Vos-”

“Heya, losers! Did Vossy and I miss anything?” Misfire’s cheery voice shouted as he came bursting through the door with Vos on his shoulder like some kind of freakish parrot, the sniper rifle hissing loudly about his nickname. “Awww, you guys took all the good seats!”

Misfire was considering whether or not he wanted to make a fuss, but thankfully chose to be quiet and settle down on the floor near Fulcrum. He punched his best friend in the shin, making Fulcrum wince.

“Pinhead, how’re you doing? I missed a lot of stuff I’m sure, since nothing is ever calm around here, but my legs are all back together now! I won’t have to be taken out of the action again unless Tarn comes back from the dead!”

“Tarn is no Necrobot, Misfire,” Fulcrum chuckled, “but I’m glad you’re feeling well. And how are you, Vos?”

Vos had skittered off of Misfire’s shoulders and up onto the couch, currently hunched over in the now smooth opening that had once housed Tesarus’ grinder blades. They had been removed the second he had become a pet, allowing the cavity to be Vos’ personal seat now. The tan and red mech allowed it, amazingly placid when it came to Vos. They had a strange relationship.

“Vvverrry well…yesss,” Vos churred, Fulcrum putting on a fake smile as Misfire lightly corrected the ‘yes’ to a ‘thank you.’ 

“He’s still learning,” the jet murmured, Fulcrum glad that Crankcase started talking before anything more could be discussed. Vos was the only member of the DJD that he didn’t fully trust. The little mech was simply unsettling, his language barrier and strange, fast movements putting off the K-Con.

“Alright everyone, I came back here to let you know what Atomizer told me. There have been some rumors lately. Rumors about a band of mechs that have joined together to put an end to the cruel treatment of Decepticons. Since I’m not the sort to beat around the bush, they are essentially starting a revolutionary party and need more members. I myself will be joining along with Ramjet. The offer is open to all of you.”

“Will there be fighting?” Tesarus asked, X-shaped optics brightening at that. “I’ve missed ripping out internals and feeling when the stuff in the fuel filter oozes out and-”

Everyone went silent, staring with deadpan expressions at the grinder. He chuffed, folding his huge arms across his chest.

“You guys have no fun.”

“Fighting and death, most likely. They want to target the new government and wipe it clean. These bots want Optimus, Jazz, and Ultra Magnus to be in charge. A leader, a diplomat, and a lawmaker.”

“Who’s leading this crusade against oppression?” Kaon asked, sounding skeptical. “And do you trust them?”

Crankcase sighed, sounding annoyed that he was being asked anything despite the fact that he was bringing up a very complex topic. “Not sure who’s leading the thing, but I’m assuming it’s the old Prime and some of his favorites. Sadly for us though, he’s dying and has been ever since he and Megatron ripped each other apart. So from what Atomizer has said, the revolutionaries are trying to move fast-they fear Optimus will die soon and that their plans may be discovered.”

“How much time do we have to decide?” Fulcrum asked, his hands clasped tightly together. 

“Atomizer wants commitment within the week, that way the group can have their last meeting before they make their move.”

“How many mechs do they have?” Fulcrum asked, getting a shrug from Crankcase in reply. 

“Dunno, Fulcrum. I don’t have tons of specifics. All I know is that there are enough bots to make the group believe they have a chance. That’s all it takes for Autobots and oppressed Decepticons to be dangerous, though. We’ve all seen what can happen when mechs believe strongly enough about a cause.”

Heads bowed at that statement, the Scavengers and the DJD members contemplating their own beliefs and dreams. Would they be strong enough to win against Tyrest, Star Saber, and the others who currently held control of their government? Did they even /want/ to be a part of a battle that could brand them all as traitors should the outcome not rule in their favor? 

They sat in silence, not yet ready to speak the words of war.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle begins~

“I’m in and I think Vos will be, too,” Misfire announced, Vos purring from his seat inside Tesarus’ grinder. The sniper rifle emerged from Tess’ frame and scuttled over to his lover, now happy to settle in Misfire’s warm lap. 

“We won’t be participating. It’s too dangerous,” Spinister growled, protectively hovering over Kaon. He didn’t shy away from a fight, but he certainly didn’t want to endanger his mate. Kaon was Carrying and should be as far from war and other stresses as he could get. Crankcase nodded in understanding, his gaze finally turning on Fulcrum and his two brutes.

“And what about you?”

“I…I don’t really want to get involved because it could put us all in a terrible situation, but I know it’s the right thing to do…I want to fight for a better life for everyone and clearly peace hasn’t fully returned to Cybertron. So…yes, I’m committing to the war effort. I won’t speak for Helex and Tesarus, though.”

“Of course I’m in!” Tesarus barked, hands balling up into fists. “Let’s go bash some heads in!”

“I’ll stand with the rebels. They’ll need all the strength they can get,” Helex added with a nod of his helm.

“Good,” Crankcase hummed, standing up and motioning for Ramjet to follow him. “I’ll head back to Atomizer to let him know. I’ll send you all coms when it’s time for the meeting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Misfire said cheerfully, rubbing Vos’ upper arm. “Hey, Voss, how about we practice shooting? Maybe you can help me so I quit missing everything.”

“Yesss, practiccce,” Vos purred back, nodding as he slid out of Misfire’s lap and took his hand.

“You don’t put emphasis on the ’s’ sounds in Neocybex, Vossy. Nice and short, that’s how we talk. Try it again?”

“Yes. Practice,” Vos repeated, although he swatted Misfire for the nickname as he always did. 

“Much better! Before you know it you’ll be chatting as much as I do!” Misfire said brightly, picking Vos up and setting the mech on his shoulder. “Alright, we’re going out to the shooting range! See you losers later!”

Crankcase and Ramjet were already out the door by then, the pair hurrying off into the streets. Some passersby complimented Crankcase’s pet, Ramjet’s wings flaring with pride. He didn’t mind this life now that he was under Crankcase’s care. He received so much positive attention that it had become more fun than humiliating, the Seeker thriving off of the strange fame.

“Can I pet him?” a tiny voice asked as Crankcase brought Ramjet through a crowded section of the street. A youngling was the bot asking, the small mechling staring up at Ramjet. The femme holding the youngling’s hand smiled apologetically, tugging lightly at her son to hurry along.

“We don’t want to keep them waiting, sweetie.” 

“It’s fine, he’s friendly and loves the attention,” Crankcase said gruffly, commanding Ramjet to sit to show off how ‘well trained’ the Seeker was. The youngling giggled when Ramjet did as told and was now on his level. 

“Hi!” he chirped, patting Ramjet’s smooth cone helm and then the wide expanse of Ramjet’s wing. The Seeker purred softly, wing flicking calmly into the youngling’s palm. He made sure to behave, smiling at the young Cybertronian. 

He had almost forgotten what their kind looked like when they were so small. The war had taken up so much of his thought and smudged many of his memories. 

“That’s enough for now. Sire is waiting for us, Bitstream.”

“Okay. Bye, pet! You’re nice,” the youngling said, hugging Ramjet quickly before he trotted off at his Carrier’s side, hand held tightly in her own. Ramjet stood up, brushing a wing against Crankcase. 

“Cute kid. Glad he knew who the coolest pet was, too!” 

“Don’t get too full of yourself, Ramjet,” Crankcase snickered, although he gave the other mech a grin. “Let’s get back to the apartment. We need to tell Atomizer that the gang is finally back in action.” 

Crankcase was glad that the remaining Scavengers and even the DJD members were healed and safe. He had hated to admit it, but he had worried when Misfire and Vos had been in the hospital and Helex had been teetering on the verge of death. At least now all was well…as well as it could be before they started another potential war.

Upon entering the apartment which he now shared with Atomizer, he was greeted by Swift right away, the Genericon happy to see them return. Ramjet and the other pet went off to fool around together while Crankcase soon found Atomizer in his paint studio. 

“What’s the news? I’m hoping it’s good, because plans have changed.”

“What do you mean?” 

“They want to have the meeting tomorrow night. They’re worried someone will find out what’s happening and are rushing to make the attack. So, did anyone want to join in the fun?”

“All except Spinister and Kaon. It’s too bad Spinister isn’t willing since he’s a bit of a beast when he’s on the field, but he’s concerned for Kaon’s safety. Makes sense, but still. It would have been nice to have him out there with us. I’ll let them know the meeting is tomorrow, though.”

Crankcase sighed, rubbing the side of his helm that hadn’t been blasted off. 

“So I assume we’ll be attacking within the week?”

Atomizer nodded, putting the last of his paints back on the shelf where he displayed them all by color. “Oh yeah, we’ll be attacking after the meeting tomorrow. Things are going to happen fast, Crankcase. I’m just hoping we’re quick enough to catch the government off guard.”

“Let’s hope so, because I didn’t live through millions of years fighting a war to lose now,” Crankcase grumbled, for once feeling like he had a hell of a lot to lose.

 

***

“You sure this is a good idea?” Ramjet asked softly, wings lowering when he was led out of the apartment by Crankcase. Atomizer and Swift had left two hours ago, hoping to throw off anyone who might be spying on them. It would have looked exceptionally odd for all of them to leave at once, so they had staggered their departures. Crankcase shrugged, reaching over to pat the nervous Seeker on his back.

“I have no idea, but I can’t sit back and let more Decepticons get beaten and worse. We can still play pet and master, but you’re a free mech now. You shouldn’t be held on a chain like some kind of beast.”

“Yeah I guess, but what if we get caught doing this?”

“Then we’ll have to fight.”

Ramjet’s wings lowered, the mech’s dark faceplate morphing into a stern frown.

The pair made their way through roads now alight with street lamps, eventually ending up at a bar. Crankcase said the password Atomizer had agreed upon and within moments they were admitted, the mech behind the door giving them a stern glower before he jerked his head in the direction of the meeting. Crankcase could already hear voices and felt a small surge of excitement. There were a lot of voices, so that meant there were a lot of bots there.

“Hey, you made it! I was thinking you had left us to do all the work,” Misfire’s voice sneered, the jet coming out from a corner where he had been waiting. Not seeing Vos, Crankcase made a low grunt. 

“Where’s your little devil?”

“He’s keeping watch! They wanted someone small on the roof and who better than Vos? He’s got audio receptors like a hawk and is so sneaky no one would ever notice him there.”

“Have the others arrived yet?”

“Fulcrum and the brutes aren’t here, it’s just us. But boy oh boy, are there a lot of mechs I didn’t think I’d see again! There’s a few Constructicons, some triple changers, even two of the Combaticons showed up! It’s exciting,” Misfire said, optics bright as he pointed to the milling crowd inside the bar. “Atomizer said he’s waiting for Jazz and Optimus to come. Once they get here stuff can start.”

“Good. I don’t want us all trapped in here for too long.”

Crankcase had a bad feeling about the tight quarters inside the bar, but he hoped everyone was on the alert and ready to fight if things came down to it. His optics wandered across the room and he was surprised to find Astrotrain calmly talking to Inferno, Impactor and Ironhide barking about war stories with Onslaught and Bonecrusher, and many others. It looked like the strongest mechs were here, so that was good. Mirage and his type would never want to get their hands dirty and surely wouldn’t want to lose control over their slaves. No Nobles or prominent government officials were present.

“Thrust!” Ramjet suddenly exclaimed, spotting familiar maroon and black plating among the restless bodies. 

Before Crankcase had a hope of stopping Ramjet, the black and white Seeker had bolted from his side and hurtled through the crowd to get to his trine mate. Thrust’s wings perked up high when he heard his mate’s voice, trilling loudly when he was tackled in a big hug.

Seeker chirps and churrs were the only things the pair said to one another, rubbing wings and frames together as they swapped scents and tried to get reacquainted. Seekers were exceptionally social creatures and not being able to have their trines close was torture. Crankcase and Hoist stood back and watched their former pets embrace, the trine almost complete.

“Have you seen Dirge?” Hoist asked hopefully, Crankcase frowning and shaking his head. “That’s too bad. Thrust insists he is still alive but we can’t locate him for the life of us. Not having his trine mates has been very upsetting for him.”

“I can imagine. They’ll be glad to be back together.”

Crankcase watched the Seekers communicate with wings and Seeker dialect, neither paying a bit of attention to their former owners. Hoist looked slightly sad, turning his gaze away as he tried to busy himself with something he had written on a data pad. 

“Crankcase,” Fulcrum called, coming over with Tesarus and Helex at each side. The hulking mechs parted the crowd before them, many turning to look at them as they approached. Impactor tensed, as did many others, but thankfully no one made to attack. “Optimus and Jazz just arrived. They’ll be starting the meeting soon.”

“Good, we need to get this going. I want this war done with by tomorrow morning.”

“Attention everyone!” Jazz’s smooth voice called out from the front of the room. “We have the big mech himself here ta speak with us on what plans we need ta follow. Don’t worry about a thing. Ultra Magnus and OP have got our backs!”

A very old and frail looking Prime slowly stepped into the light someone had shone down on the front of the room, Ultra Magnus standing sternly at Optimus’ side. Fulcrum could see the lawmaker was ready to grab Optimus if he should stumble or fall, the Prime not looking like he was in good health. But he did not falter as he began to speak, voice still as powerful as everyone remembered it to be.

“Autobots and Decepticons, it is time that we fully shed our brands and affiliations like unwanted grit. We must unite as one to halt an even greater injustice than the war that ravaged our world and people for millions of years. Now we must take a stand against those who continue to abuse and oppress. I may be past fighting, but I have faith that all of you will be prepared to support what is just.”

The crowd inside the building was silent, their optics respectfully regarding the Prime as he finished his speech and slowly made his way back to stand with Jazz, tired but clearly happy with the reaction he had gathered from the onlookers. He needed to see their emotion and had hoped he had touched them with his brief but powerful words.

“Alright, when do we attack?” Impactor growled impatiently, Bonecrusher agreeing. They wanted something to do, sick of words and seeking actions to solve their problems. 

“Shut up, we’ll hear soon,” Onslaught snapped, giving the pair a glower behind his visor. 

Ultra Magnus began to give out orders, assigning the bots who were there into groups so that they could more easily complete their various tasks. Fulcrum was relieved when his name was called along with both Helex and Tesarus, grateful that he would be allowed to stay with the former DJD members. They were family.

Misfire was standing next to Fulcrum listening intently for his and Vos’ squadrons. Grinning when he was allowed to keep Vos close (since it was well known Misfire’s name was an indication of how well he could shoot), the jet leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. Now he needed to wait for Vos and tell him what their orders were.

He was surprised when his spindly mate suddenly came scrambling into the room screeching a mix of Primal Vernacular and Neocybex. 

“Fight! Fight!” he shouted, pointing at the ceiling as bots took notice of his desperate shouting. “They come!” he insisted, the mechs inside the building swiftly jumping into action, loading guns and prepping their built-in weaponry. Even though they hadn’t seen the threat themselves, they found themselves trusting Vos.

“Everyone stay calm! We march on the government buildings now! Stay in your assigned groups!” Ultra Magnus barked just as the bar shook dangerously and someone began to pound on the door to the outside. 

“Enforcers! Open the door now or you will be placed under arrest!”

“They’re trying to get in!” the mech who had been guarding the door shouted, the semi truck bracing his weight against the opening to buy everyone time. “I won’t be able to hold them back forever, so hurry up and get out the back door if you can!”

“Then we’ll fight our way out!” Impactor roared, the tank ready for action. Before he could be stopped, the orange and purple mech charged forward towards the front door with Bonecrusher at his back, the pair moving in unison as they reached the door. “The second we get the door down, charge through! We’ll take as much of the fire as we can.”

Misfire was lost in the chaos, Fulcrum being shuffled away by Helex and Tesarus. They hovered over him, protective and on edge. Their thick armor was flared and their hands balled into fists. This was bad. They didn’t like being trapped in a building that was clearly being surrounded on all sides. 

“They’ll need us to help break through. Let’s go,” Tesarus said, leading the way. He was almost to the door when Ultra Magnus grabbed the grinder by his wrist. “Hey, what gives?!”

“I have a different job for you three. Come with me.”

Magnus pulled them aside and dragged them back to where Optimus was standing with Jazz. Fulcrum nervously lowered his head in the presence of the Prime, trying to be respectful. 

“What do you want us to do?”

“We will be escorting Optimus to the Senate building where he will rightfully take his place again as Cybertron’s guardian. We must protect him with our lives.”

“Why not pick Impactor for the job?” Tesarus demanded, suspicious that he and his best friends were being dragged into a trap of some kind. Tess had made it in life because he had always been rather suspicious and unwilling to trust right away. Magnus growled, hearing a crash on the roof above. The Enforcers and Tyrest’s goons would be breaking through any moment now.

“Impactor is tank. Simply put, their kind is better used on the front lines where they can kill rather than defensively guard. Now we need to move out. Jazz, you know what your orders are?”

“I sure do, Mags! I’ll see ya on the flip side!” Jazz chortled, getting a glower at the nickname and his slang as he darted away. Impactor was whooping something about ‘slag-suckers’ so the door must have been broken through. The tank’s main gun went off with a thunderous bang and screams could be heard outside the bar. 

Fulcrum put his hands over his audio receptors, wishing he could block it all out. But his legs moved when Helex and Tesarus circled him and the aging Prime, willing to protect and lay down their lives for Fulcrum, not so much the Prime. Even so, it would be difficult to kill Optimus with the two brutes, Ultra Magnus, and Fulcrum guarding him.

“When Impactor and the others carve their way through the first line of defense, we break through and run. I simply need you to help protect Optimus on his way out of this building. After that I can take it from there and you know what your mission is following these instructions.”

“Yes, to kill everyone who stands in our way of freedom and the right to live as we please,” Helex growled, feeling a familiar urge to cause pain boil up inside his frame. 

Just like Tesarus, Helex and all of the living DJD members still held some residual interest in killing. Tesarus had been excited about the prospect of ripping into enemies and now that the time had come, Helex felt the same drive to complete his trained task. Fulcrum might have tried to protect him from that side of himself, but it was imperative now that he allow the beast Megatron had created to be free. 

Released from their collars and chains, Helex, Tesarus, and Vos would become invaluable warriors on the side of true untainted justice.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead everyone, I promise! I'll try to finish this story up before I start work this summer and update a few more things as well. I'm out of college so now I'll have more time to get this beast of a tale wrapped up among others~

Impactor and the other heavy hitters had cleared a path through the Enforcers that attempted to surround the front door, shouts and screams filling the air. Misfire and Vos shoved their way out of the bar, stunned to find they were facing more than just a few cops. Tyrest had sent a small army against them, the jet’s wings perking up in alarm.

“You ready for this, Vos?” 

“Yessss,” Vos crooned, nuzzling Misfire’s cheek after clambering onto his shoulder. “Killll.”

“Sounds like a plan! Help me aim, will ya?”

Vos chortled, transforming into his gun form and dropping into Misfire’s hands. The magenta and purple mech lightly squeezed Vos’ frame, getting a feel for the shape of his new weapon. There was no way he could miss now, not with a living gun on his side. 

“Misfire!” Crankcase’s gruff voice barked, waving for the jet and his sniper rifle to join them near the front. “We need you up here. Pick off the bots with the wing symbols on their shoulders, they’re the higher ranking officers according to Atomizer!”

Misfire nodded, spotting one of the high ranking mechs giving orders behind the masses of ground troops. Impactor and Bonecrusher were making scrap metal of said soldiers, absolutely ferocious in their killing spree. It was ugly and beautiful at the same time, the image of bloody victory encouraging the other rebels to fight just as hard. They surged against the Enforcers like an unstoppable wave, crashing against the enemy with unrelenting tenacity. When one mech fell, another came immediately to take his place.

“Vos, can you shoot that far?”

A loud spitting came from the sniper rifle, clearly trying to tell Misfire that he could damn well shoot that far and was insulted at being asked such a ridiculous thing. Misfure snorted in return, raising Vos in his hands and pulling the trigger.

The bullet was almost entirely silent as it whizzed over the other Enforcers and lodged itself right in the forehead of one of the generals. The general’s advisors scattered in panic, screaming there was a sniper somewhere. Misfire realized they had made a target out of themselves, but there was nothing to be done for it now. They had a war to win and some bad guys to kill.

“Nice shot!” he chirped at Vos, once again getting an insulted sound back. Of course it was a good shot! 

Vos never missed.

***

“Thrust and I are going to fly,” Ramjet said, grabbing Crankcase by the wrist before the mech charged into the wall of Enforcers. “We can distract them.”

“You’ll get yourself killed!” Crankcase snapped, the two Seekers shaking their heads.

“We’re no good on the ground, pal,” Thrust grunted, the mech grinning a little. “We’ll be okay. We’ve flown before.”

“Thrust is right. We’ll be fine,” Ramjet agreed, nodding for his trine mate to take to the air while he stole a quick kiss from Crankcase’s open mouth. He had been about to protest further, but Ramjet wouldn’t hear it. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

Ramjet smiled softly before he got a running start and transformed, taking off with a loud thoom. Window glass broke and the buildings nearby shook, Thrust and Ramjet circling over the Enforcers a few times before they swooped down and sprayed the enemy with bullets. Screams, shouts, and howls went up as the aerials blasted past, narrowly avoiding return fire.

Crankcase found Hoist, the two having hung back to watch their former pets fight. Silently they looked at one another, communicating to one another their fears. Neither thought the Seekers would survive, the pain of loss already creeping into their optics. In uprisings like this - if they were successful - it was only through sacrifice and blood. Freedom like this came at a cost.

***  
Helex and Tesarus weren’t the fastest mechs in the world, but they moved quicker knowing they were now responsible for bringing Optimus Prime to the Capitol Senate buildings. Fulcrum was petrified, helping support Optimus as they were ushered towards the broken front door of the bar by Ultra Magnus. The hulking semi truck was watching to see if they could make a break for it.

He appeared to speak on the com line with someone and then came an overwhelmingly loud volley of fire from a tank’s main gun joined surprisingly by other explosives, many of which were flash-bangs and effectively blinded the two warring parties.

“Go!” Magnus barked, Helex suddenly scooping Optimus up into his set of four arms and running with him.

Optimus was weak and fragile compared to what he had been throughout the war. Running and evading enemies might put his spark into arrest and kill him before they made it to the Senate Capitol. Therefore, Helex decided he would fix the problem before it got worse. The smelter barreled through the disoriented allies and enemies with the Prime securely carried in his arms, Tesarus, Magnus, and Fulcrum by his side. 

The smoke was thick and smelled of hot metal and ash, the small group of rebels slipping into an alley where Magnus took the lead. The former DJD members followed close behind, Fulcrum keeping pace right along with them with his gun at the ready. 

Amazingly they didn’t meet more resistance. More bombs went off behind them, Fulcrum turning his helm briefly to check that they weren’t being followed. Ultra Magnus saw the gesture and growled a command to keep his gaze ahead of him or else he would slow them down. 

“Jazz will make sure they’re occupied,” was the only answer Magnus gave, Fulcrum nodding briskly to say he understood. 

Optimus said nothing the entire time as he was rushed down the side streets towards the grouping of towering bronze buildings in the distance, the mech shuttering his optics. He wished he was stronger and younger again, but his time of being a warrior was over. He wanted to work in the archives and libraries now, eager to live out his days in peace and teach any who wished to learn all he could. But sadly peace never seemed possible, not when there were greedy fanatics remaining in the seats of power. 

“How far are we?” Helex asked, huffing and puffing from the exertion of running and carrying a semi truck. 

“Not much longer. Keep going. Do not stop for anything.”

Fulcrum had pulled up a digital map of Iacon, the projection on his arm showing they were only a few blocks from the Senate buildings. He felt a flash of relief, thinking they were almost done with their job. But that feeling was short lived, the group of mechs coming around a corner to find themselves facing row upon row of Enforcers, Chief Justice Tyrest’s frame overlooking his Elite warriors from a aerial landing balcony high above the ground.

Draconic rotor wings spread wide, the helicopter raising his hand up to hold back his soldiers from demolishing the rebels in a volley of bullets. Helex and Tesarus snarled curses at their predicament, Magnus coming to stand in front of them to offer extra protection of Optimus. Fulcrum felt his spark stop, his gaze locked on the looming form of the corrupt leader of Cybertron hulking above them.

“You must be joking. Did you really think you’d be able to come running in here with your decrepit leader? Hardly,” Tyrest announced, the mech striding out further onto the balcony. At his side stood Star Saber, the tricolor mech dead silent as he gazed out over the throng of Elite Enforcers.

“You must step down, Tyrest,” Ultra Magnus rumbled, his strong voice carrying to the balcony where Tyrest stood waiting in mock pleasantry. 

“Ordering me might get your friends killed without a fair trial, Magnus. You see, I already have quite a few of them with me.”

Tyrest motioned for the other Senator to move back as prisoners were brought forth. Prowl and Barricade, Atomizer and Swift, and Jazz were those in the front. Magnus stilled, unsure how Jazz had been captured already and brought to the Senate buildings. The spy looked half dead, covered in energon that was clearly his own, his helm hanging in a mix of fatigue, pain, and shame at his failure. 

“Hand over the Prime and you’ll be given a trial before we kill you for insubordination,” Tyrest hissed, rotor wings flared angrily. Magnus stood firm, refusing to be intimidated by the display. He also said nothing, unwilling to give Tyrest any reaction besides a cold frown. 

Tyrest cocked his head, one wing flicking with annoyance. 

“Oh, is that how it is? Throw the broken one off the balcony,” Tyrest hissed, Star Saber grabbing Jazz by his wrist shackles and tugging him closer to the edge of the landing platform. 

Just as he was about to hurl Jazz off, a blur of blue and gold leapt on Star Saber’s back, a Seeker violently clawing into the Senator’s faceplate. Fulcrum could make out the gray of a standard slave collar, but his gaze moved from the warring Seeker to a very familiar frame lurking on the roof. 

“Spinister,” he whispered in awe as the deranged aerial suddenly leapt down on top of Tyrest himself, the helicopters becoming nothing more than a tangled mess of limbs. “Spinister has Tyrest!”

“Charge the soldiers,” Magnus ordered, putting himself in front. “I’ll be your shield. Get Optimus to the inner chamber so he may assume his rightful place and end this madness.”

“Will do,” Helex grunted, Tesarus nodding in agreement. This was their choice and they had decided to die fighting for their freedom was well worth the risk. 

The small pack of mechs charged the Elite Enforcers in what surely looked like madness, the Elite about to destroy them when a thunderous roar came from the main street. A bloody orange and purple tank accompanied by a Constructicon came into view about 40 yards away, Impactor ripping in half a struggling mech while Bonecrusher tossed the helm of the lead general of the Enforcers at the pedes of the Elite guards.

Impactor and Bonecrusher were followed by a wave of surviving mechs from the rebellion, war cries going up as they threw themselves against their opponents with a ferocity only those fighting for freedom had. The Elite guard rose to the challenge, although many had been recalled to the Senate building to aid Star Saber and Tyrest. 

Seeker engines thundered past above, Fulcrum watching as Ramjet and Thrust converged on Tyrest and Star Saber. He had little time to witness the clash though, intent on getting Optimus into the building while keeping his partners safe.

Ultra Magnus was the first to hit the wall of Elite, crushing them with his hammer and clearing a path. Tesarus fell upon them with barely contained glee, whooping excitedly as he began to grind up some new victims and rip others apart. Helex fought as well, but was hindered by Optimus’ frame in his arms.

“Helex, on your seven!”

Helex snarled, whipping around just in time to swat back an SUV model that had attempted to go after Optimus. Fulcrum shot the mech a moment later, he and Helex exchanging quick nods of gratitude before they continued onward, pushing against the wave of enemies. Helex glanced away from the immediate fighting around him to see how Impactor and the others were progressing, pleased to find the Wrecker was still standing and cutting his way through the crowd.

Tesarus broke through the last of the Elite guard who stood between him and the main doors of the Senate building, the mech snarling viciously as he tried to break down the door. It was locked tight, the tan and red bot shaking off some attackers as they attempted to pull him away. His hands clawed at the huge doorknobs, hoping he would get a strong enough hold to pry the entrance apart. 

“I can’t open it!” he barked at Magnus who was now protecting his back along with Helex and Fulcrum. “Helex, help me!”

Unsure if he should put the Prime down, Helex lumbered to the door as Fulcrum and Ultra Magnus bravely shielded them. The blue and yellow brute set down Optimus for only a moment, using all four of his arms to aid Tesarus in yanking the doors open. The sturdy metal buckled and creaked under their efforts, yet held fast. 

“What are we supposed to do now?!” Tesarus demanded, crushing the helm of an Elite who had gotten past Fulcrum’s defenses.

“Break the hinges,” Helex suddenly announced, slamming his fists into the sturdy hinges of the door.

Tesarus followed Helex’s example, pounding on the hinges until they began to give way. Once enough of the metal supports had been broken down, Helex and Tesarus once again took hold of the door handles and pulled, at last rewarded as the entrance to the Senate building opened up. They were immediately met by a spray of bullets and laser fire, the mechs roaring in pain and fury as they charged forward. 

Nothing was going to stop them now, Tesarus taking the brunt of the bullets as Helex scooped Optimus’ weakened frame up into his arms and lumbered into the building. Magnus and Fulcrum followed, holding off the Elite for a time before they turned and bolted after the brutes and the Prime. 

“I will take it from here. Go take care of Star Saber and Tyrest,” Magnus announced, catching up to Helex and stopping him from going any farther.

“If you say so,” Tesarus huffed, not sure what exactly was going on with the Prime. Not that he really cared, the mech more intent on fighting Tyrest and making his brutal demise hurt as much as possible. “Let’s go get Spinister out of there before he hogs all the fun.”

Tesarus was talking a big game, but he was clearly wounded from their breaking into the building, his frame smeared with energon and his armor cracked and pitted with holes from the high powered bullets that had managed to break through his defenses. Even so, his faceplate was determined, ready to fight until he could do so no longer.

Helex nodded and gently set Optimus back down onto his pedes, the Prime thanking him. “It was an honor,” the purple and yellow mech replied, turning his optics away after he spoke. He had a feeling the Prime might not live to see freedom for all, but at least they had done their best and given him a fighting chance.

“Let’s go,” Fulcrum said, lightly touching Helex’s upper secondary arm. He nodded, loping off with Tesarus and Fulcrum towards the balcony and their final battle.

***

Dirge had never been in so much pain while feeling such a rush of hope at the same time, the Seeker violently ripping into Star Saber’s faceplate as the familiar engines of his trine mates blasted overhead. They were coming, the mech fighting harder still through the shocks of the slave collar. Nothing would stop him, his feverish attacks becoming calculated once his claws broke through one of Star Saber’s optics.

“Enough!” the mech spat, punching Dirge in the chest with all his might. Dirge’s cockpit glass shattered and in a flash he found himself on the ground, Star Saber standing over him while one of the mech’s massive pedes held him down. “You have been disobedient long after I purchased you. We’ll see if clipping your wings will make you behave, my Vosian skylark.”

Dirge screamed when Star Saber took hold of his wing, the sensitive appendage buckling and curling under the force of the Senator’s hold. No sound came from him when the wing was agonizingly hacked off by Star Saber’s sword, the blue and gold mech scrabbling at the ground in a useless attempt to drag himself away and out of harm’s reach. 

“This is what you deserve,” Star Saber spat, grabbing onto Dirge’s remaining wing with the intent to dismember it as well when the mech was thrown from Dirge’s frame across the balcony with considerable force. 

Rolling onto his side as energon pooled around him from the missing wing, Dirge focused his optics and saw Ramjet had, true to his name, slammed into Star Saber at full speed and was following his first ram attack with hand to hand combat. The impact had damaged both mechs but it had temporarily flung Star Saber’s sword out of reach, making him more vulnerable. 

“Dirge!” Thrust gasped, grabbing ahold of his downed trine mate so he could pull him away from the fighting. “Dirge, we’ll take it from here. We’ve got you.”

“He’ll kill everyone!” Dirge wheezed, trying to stand up and move, keening for all his efforts as the pain was unbearable. “Thrust, get away from here! They’re stronger than all of us combined! We simply caught them off guard but once they recover…”

As Dirge spoke, Star Saber roared his fury and hurled Ramjet away from his frame, rising and reclaiming his sword that had landed a few yards away. Weapon in hand, the tricolor mech swung at Spinister who was still grappling with Tyrest, the blow missing by mere centimeters as Spinister rolled out of its deadly path just in time. Hissing and spitting, the helicopter scurried back from Tyrest to collect himself and sort out how he wanted to approach the fight now, slinking around Star Saber and a disgruntled Tyrest.

“You think you’re all so clever, trying to fight me!” Tyrest sneered, picking himself up as Star Saber came to stand at his side. “But I have thought ahead. I always wanted my universal killswitch to work not only on heretics, but also on the useless. And what is more useless than a slave and a pet?”

Tyrest took out a small remote device, the Chief Justice grinning wickedly as his thumb pushed down on the small button in the middle of the wand. Dirge suddenly screeched, hands grabbing desperately at his slave collar. Thrust tried to get it off, horrified when he saw it had deployed blades into the mech’s neck, severing each of his main lines. It was killing him, the Seeker writhing while Thrust was essentially powerless to help, his thumbprint not correct to open the collar. Only Star Saber could.

Star Saber said nothing, simply watching as Dirge died, the Seeker’s convulsing coming to a halt after a few minutes of sheer agony. His frame went still, sides rising and falling shallowly as he tried to breathe, his frame losing color rapidly as energon gushed from the twin wounds in his neck. Tyrest chuckled, glad to see his device had worked. All of the useless would perish. 

***

All those who owned a pet or a slave suddenly found their companions or servants dying. Thundercracker collapsed in silent agony at Mirage’s dinner table, the Noble leaping up to see what was wrong. Upon seeing energon gushing from hidden blades in the slave collar that had bitten into the Seeker’s soft neck, the blue and white mech fumbled to unlock the device only to find the damage was severe, Thundercracker’s main lines both sliced open with a precise and fatal cut. Tossing the bloody collar away, Mirage thought fast rushed to the hearth he had at the other end of his formal dining room, grabbing the fire poker. 

He didn’t apologize as he yanked Thundercracker’s helm upwards and cauterized the wounds with the side of the red hot poker, sealing the wounds in a crude yet effective way. It wouldn’t be a permanent fix, but it would last long enough to get Thundercracker to a medic. Thundercracker endured the pain in near silence, a loud hissing gasp all that escaped. Once the bleeding had stopped, their optics met for a brief moment, a flash of panic conveyed in Thundercracker’s expression reflected in Mirage’s. 

“Come along, Thundercracker. We need to get you to a medic,” Mirage said, taking Thundercracker’s shaking hand in his.

Many died that day, the pets and slaves either alone in their homes or unable to be saved by their masters. Tyrest’s plan had worked to some extent, but it had not universally ended the lives of all the former Decepticons as had been planned. Instead many had been saved by their owners or caretakers in the auction houses, the bitter mechs and femmes now ready to turn on whomever had caused the loss of their investments, playthings, laborers, lovers, and heartfelt companions.


	29. Chapter 29

Thrust and Ramjet did everything they could to save him, but it was a lost cause. Dirge was gone from losing too much energon, his ragged venting ceasing after a few more desperate gasps. His side of the trine bond faded away with his soul, leaving a visible void in both of his trinemates’ sparks. The scar was unsightly and painful, but they surviving Seekers didn’t have the luxury to mourn. Right now they had a battle to fight and a personal score to settle. 

Thrust and Ramjet went after the Enforcers who now streamed onto the roof, trying to keep them from supporting Tyrest and Star Saber. Neither lasted long, Thrust getting both of his wings dislocated and grotesquely twisted while Ramjet was beaten into unconsciousness. The Seekers were downed, broken Vosian Skylarks that couldn’t take to the air even if they wished. 

Star Saber and Tyrest thought they had won as they watched their soldiers do their work, admiring the death and misery they had created. The Autobot prisoners were once again being ushered to the edge of the balcony for execution, Prowl snatched from the small collection of high ranking officials and pulled down onto his knees.

Barricade shouted and struggled against the Enforcer holding him back, desperate to reach Prowl before they murdered him. The mech’s optics were wide with horror as he watched them drag his friend towards his death. Well, Prowl was a whole lot more than a friend…but neither of them wanted to admit they actually liked each other.

“Prowl! Prowl, I’m coming!” he barked, voice hoarse from all the screaming he had been doing earlier in the thick of the battle. Snarl-yelping as the Enforcer holding him yanked his arms back, Barricade saw Prowl twist to look at him. Their optics said it all, windows into their aching souls. 

It was too late.

“PROWL!” Barricade howled as Tyrest walked up behind the Praxian and aimed his gun to the back of the cop’s helm, the shot sounding like a bomb to Barricade.

Prowl’s frame was kicked from the balcony after that, his limp body falling down to the mass of clashing soldiers below. Barricade thrashed and fought even harder, Tyrest turning to smirk at his efforts. “If you’re so eager to join him, you can be next.”

“I’ll kill you!” Barricade vowed, the mech holding him forcing him to march towards the helicopter mech. “I’ll feed your disgusting carcass to the canids!”

“Good luck, but I think they’ll be full after eating the protoflesh off your bones,” Tyrest chuckled, reloading his gun to dispatch the former Decepticon. It was a pity to lose such a good fighter, but Barricade was guilty by association to Prowl. He was a lost cause for all of Tyrest’s purposes. 

Meanwhile, Spinister was currently trying to fight all on his own, becoming overwhelmed with the rush of new Enforcers onto the balcony. He transformed and regretfully took the air to avoid being overpowered, circling and shooting when he could. But it was hard since the prisoners were well positioned to be hit from any sort of major air raid, surely a tactic Tyrest had thought of to prevent his forces from being mowed down. 

Suddenly there was a sharp scream from one of the Enforcers near the far edge of the balcony, the mech getting shocked so fiercely that his optics burst, glass shattering and the internal components frying in a gush of acrid smoke just before his spark guttered out. Behind him stood the very gravid form of Kaon, the blind mech tilting his head at the other Enforcers standing nearby, his energy coils crackling like twin peaks of lightning.

-Spinister, you didn’t seriously think I would stay behind in that room while you had all the risk. We endure together- the mech commed to his mate, Spinister panicking as Sire instincts screamed to protect his mate. Why had Kaon put himself in danger like that?!

-You’re going to make my Sire instincts one million times worse than they were already…-

-Good- Kaon purred, watching as some Enforcers went after him only to be met with the most ferocious helicopter they had ever encountered. -Because it will make you fight harder and assure us our victory-

***

Tyrest and Star Saber tried not to pay the small rebel force any mind, their attention ripped away from their war prisoners only when something huge and heavy slammed against the locked door to the landing balcony. The impact into the door had left a massive dent, whoever was behind it quite strong. Cursing, Tyrest kicked Barricade off the side of the balcony without bothering to shoot him, letting the cuffed mech fall to his end below. Right then he had much bigger problems, hiding his fear as the door gave way to revealTesarus and Helex, followed by some nameless K-Con. 

In a flash Tesarus and Helex fell upon the Enforcers, many of the mechs recognizing who they were about to fight and attempted to flee in a desperate act of freedom. The landing platform soon became a place of chaos, uncontrolled and hectic. Star Saber went to do battle with the two brutes and their smaller sidekick, hoping to damage them enough to prevent further harm. 

-Tyrest, we may need to leave soon- Star Saber hissed, narrowly missing a mighty blow to the head Helex had aimed at him. -These are the DJD. They know how to fight-

-We are not leaving until we’ve won!- Tyrest shot back, shooting at Fulcrum from where he stood. The prisoners were forgotten for a moment, small issues compared to the literally massive ones intent on murdering them. -Aim for the heads. They aren’t Tarn, they have no hidden powers besides their strength and that can be worn down-

Meanwhile, across the balcony, Tesarus and Helex were pushing forwards towards Star Saber and Tyrest, Fulcrum shooting as many bots as he could but narrowly avoiding becoming a target himself. Helex and Tess were taking the brunt of the hits, each bleeding heavily from a peppering of bullet wounds and laser burns. 

“Spinister, get Kaon out of here, he’s going to get killed!” Helex barked, spotting Kaon holding his own with his electricity nearby. Spinister had tried to remove his mate twice already, but had been shocked for his efforts. 

“He won’t go!” the mech shot back, snarling as he ripped into the throat of a foolish Enforcer who had tried to take on the helicopter with a sword. 

“We gotta get the others out,” Tesarus urged, charging ahead towards Jazz, Swift, and Atomizer. Hurling the Enforcers who had been guarding the prisoners off the balcony, Tesarus desperately tried to break the cuffs. “I’ll get you guys out,” he growled, his dentas grit as he began to get shot from behind, his frame now a huge sitting target.

“Tesarus, fight them! Forget about us, we’ll be fine!” Atomizer said, urging the brute to turn his attentions to something more useful. 

“You’ll be fragging dead if I don’t get you out,” the grinder shot back, at last breaking through Swift’s cuffs, then Atomizer’s. Jazz was last, the mech too damaged already to be much help in the balcony fight. “Grab some weapons that are scattered around and kill these bastards.”

“With pleasure!” Atomizer replied, he and Swift charging into the fray in search of some dropped Enforcer guns. 

Tesarus then turned to face Tyrest, spotting the helicopter not too far away trying to shoot at Fulcrum. It made the grinder angry, charging forward to take on the one thing standing between everyone and their rightful freedom. 

“It’s time for you to die,” Tesarus spat, swinging at Tyrest only to find the mech had nimbly jumped out of the way like a matador would dance away from a charging bull. Tess spun around to counterattack, optics wild. “You sick frag!”

Tyrest sneered, raising his arm to aim his gun at Tesarus while the grinder charged him. “You’re finished. You, your DJD friends, your hopes and dreams for your cause. It’s all over now! A new leader has taken Megatron’s place!”

Above the fighting there was suddenly a thunderous boom, the sound so loud it caused some of the nearby mechs to start bleeding from their audio receptors. Tyrest looked to the sky to see what had happened, shrieking as his frame abruptly became spattered with energon. He recoiled, dropping his gun as he did so. In the air a Seeker whipped around to attack again, the mech swooping quite low to the balcony. 

Tyrest had no time to react or realize what was going on, someone /jumping/ either off of or out of the Seeker as he flew past, said mech landing right on Tyrest with a loud clang. The force of the impact crushed Tyrest’s chest plating, the mech wheezing as he was thrown to the ground. Unsure what had just happened, the mech tried to rise only to find someone was now beating on him viciously, although they weren’t particularly strong.

“We have all had enough of you, Tyrest,” the mech hissed, crisp accent so out of place amongst warriors and lowborn bots who were fighting all around them. “No one else is finished except you! Every mech you tried to kill or did end up murdering, their owners, friends, and lovers are moving against what you stand for. They’re fighting down below alongside the rebels!”

Tyrest knocked the mech away from his frame, scrambling to the edge of the balcony to see if what was said was true. He felt his spark sink as he regarded the scene below, waves of mechs pouring into the streets around the Senate building to join the renegade army. His Enforcers were falling even faster now, their numbers dwindling every second as more and more enraged bots sought revenge. Killing the pets had apparently been a huge mistake. For every one of them he had ended, their owners were up in arms, ripping apart his defenders with a rage Tyrest had never seen before. 

He snarled when he felt someone grab his rotor wings, hauling him up to his pedes. It was the Seeker, the turquoise and black mech holding him in an iron grip. Beside him stood the mech who had tackled Tyrest earlier, the blue and white bot frowning sternly. 

“Can I throw him off the balcony?” 

“You may do whatever you’d like to him, Thundercracker.”

It was at that moment Tyrest saw the newly cauterized wounds on the Seeker’s neck, realizing these two were owner and pet, the Seeker one of the many he had nearly killed. Cursing them both, Tyrest tried to fight even as Thundercracker wasted no time in breaking all of his rotors to prevent flight. Tyrest howled and screeched, thrashing and clawing the entire way to the balcony edge. Thundercracker then flung Tyrest from the landing platform with a stoney expression etched into his faceplate, unreadable and stern. He and Mirage watched as Tyrest fell, plummeting to the ground below where the armies clashed. 

Impactor and Bonecrusher had broken through the lines of the Enforcers, scattering the troops as they lurched forward towards the Senate building. Thundercracker felt a small, wicked smile spread across his lips as Impactor spotted Tyrest’s frame, the helicopter not yet dead from his fall. The tank whooped, wild with war-lust as he and his mate fell on Tyrest like wolves. 

Mirage and Thundercracker looked away after that, positive that Impactor would get the job done. 

The battle was mostly over by then, the balcony at last cleared of enemy fighters. Helex dispatched the last Enforcer there, breaking the mech’s neck before he dropped the body and nearly fell over himself from exhaustion. Fulcrum reached up to steady the huge brute, grasping his smaller hand in his in a tender gesture of affection. 

“Helex…it’s over,” he whispered as a mighty cry rose up from down below. They had won, the cheers of victory ringing out across the city. 

“Thank Primus,” Helex rumbled, kicking Star Saber’s gray frame away with the tip of a pede. “They’re all dead and won’t be able to hurt anyone else again.”

Tesarus limped over to where Helex and Fulcrum stood, lightly bumping Fulcrum’s upper arm. “Do I get to have my hand held, too?” he asked, grinning weakly. “You guys have all the fun.”

Kaon and Spinister also padded over to their strange family members, Kaon tired but entirely unharmed. Spinister was on edge still, rotor blades shuffling dangerously at his back. One wrong move and the aerial would surely snap and go on the attack. Ramjet and Thrust were coming back to their senses, dragging themselves over to Dirge’s gray frame to mourn. 

Mirage and Thundercracker went to help the former prisoners, Mirage steadying Jazz as the mech struggled to stay conscious. Swift and Atomizer remained close by, unsure what they should do. Below the cheering had ceased and now that eerie silence of war set in, broken only by the screams and cries of the wounded and dying. 

The hush became even more pronounced as Ultra Magnus walked out onto the balcony with Optimus slowly padding along beside him. The mechs down below stared up at the balcony as the rightful leader of Cybertron stood before them, older and weaker than he had been during the war but still the same in spirit. 

There were no words as Optimus opened his chest plates and allowed the Matrix to be seen by all, the energy flaring brightly as if it were a beacon, lighting the way for all the lost souls. There were so many who had died that day, so many who had suffered countless days before that, but now they were free and the corrupt government overthrown.

The city felt a bit brighter as the Matrix energy seeped out of its container, tendrils of azure blue light reaching out towards its people. Cheers answered the display, the entire city rising to answer the call of its most sacred item. Peace at last fell over their world, Optimus shuttering his optics for a moment to remember how it felt.


	30. Chapter 30

Barricade felt himself falling, plummeting towards the fighting masses below. He cried out when he suddenly hit the ground with a nasty crack, his back exploding in white hot agony as the force broke the chains of the handcuffs he had been in. Optics wide, he lay still in total shock for a moment or two, staring up at the sky while Enforcers fell around him. Everything seemed to blur out, his focus shifting from the sky to the fact that he was alive. 

And the fact that he could find Prowl.

Rolling over was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, gasping and choking back screams of suffering as he clawed into the metallic ground under his frame. His back was broken and his concaved armor had pierced into his protoflesh and internals, energon and some gore oozing out around the gaping wounds. 

Pedes and legs of all colors and frame types moved around him as he tried to get his bearings, some stepping on the cop as they soldiers desperately battled for their lives. But while there was confusion, Barricade was better able to see other bots on his level. Mechs laying on the ground were either dead or dying near him, Barricade blocking them all out with well trained tunnel vision. He had his spark set on one, desperately trying to locate him among the corpses. 

Barricade’s spark stopped when he at last found Prowl’s frame, the Praxian’s door wings unmistakable thanks to his professional decals. He looked ash gray, but Barricade wasn’t about to give up on him until he knew for sure that his best buddy was gone. He began the struggle of inching his way towards his former owner, letting out an uncharacteristically high pitched yelp when an Enforcer stepped on his damaged back, nearly causing him to pass out.

Recovering as best he could, Barricade forced his broken frame to push on towards Prowl. He was thankful he hadn’t been thrown off the balcony farther away from the cop or else he might not have been able to find him so quickly. 

“Prowl…” he choked out, at last reaching his owner’s side. “Prowl…are you conscious?”

There was no answer, Prowl’s frame lifeless. His helm was bleeding where he had been shot, but Barricade thought there still might be a way. Even if the brain was damaged, the spark was what truly mattered. Surgeons could fix every other component to their frames, but sparks were the soul. Sparks were not replaceable.

Tugging on Prowl’s shoulder, Barricade used a great deal of effort to roll the sedan onto his back. Those lovely door wings splayed out behind him, Barricade feeling all sorts of emotions as he gazed at his partner’s faceplate. He looked in pain, his final moments painful and cruel. Panting heavily, Barricade patted at Prowl’s chest plates in a weak attempt for them to open. 

“Prowl…Prowl, I can save you,” he croaked, fumbling to find the mech’s chest latches. Once he found them he unlocked Prowl’s chassis, the metal parting smoothly to reveal the cop’s empty spark chamber. 

Barricade felt silent tears starting to fall from his cheeks when a tiny clicker of light caught his attention. Deep inside the very farthest corner of the spark chamber was an ember of Prowl’s soul, the white and black marbled energy flickering faintly. But it was all Barricade needed, his own chest plates moving aside to reveal his own spark, the mech’s soul purple and black. 

He watched as tendrils of marbled energy reached out for Prowl’s tiny spark ember, coaxing it out. “I know you’ll want to kill me for this, but at least you’ll have to be alive to do that,” Barricade muttered, realizing this was pretty low. Bonding was a life long connection, sharing ones very soul with another an extremely serious matter. Normally both parties would be involved, but in order to save Prowl, Barricade had to act and think about what he had done later. 

Prowl’s remaining energy desperately clung to Barricade’s once their souls met, the Decepticon police officer’s spark cradling Prowl’s own as their energies entangled together. Barricade felt his strength draining rapidly, his own soul halving its energy to prevent Prowl’s demise. While he felt worse than ever before, Barricade did notice one good sign. 

Prowl’s coloration was coming back. Ashen gray was becoming white and black once more, the cop’s red chevron also returning to it’s original coloration. Barricade felt Prowl’s energy also strengthen, borrowing what it needed from his offered soul. Now they were one in the same, connected for the rest of their lives. 

Barricade waited until the bond felt secure before he pulled them apart, his purple and black spark now mottled with tendrils of white. Barricade closed his chest plates after that, venting heavily as he watched Prowl’s optics slowly come back online. The cop looked at him, wheezing loudly. 

“Cade…what…have you done?”

“I saved you, that’s what,” Barricade murmured, sending a pulse of reassurance over the bond to his new mate. “It was all I could think of to bring you back, Big Chief.”

Prowl’s spark pulsed back a sense of gratefulness before he passed out, exhaustion and energon loss claiming his consciousness for now. Also exhausted but still running on adrenaline, Barricade rested his helm on Prowl’s shoulder to wait for the battle to end. Someone would come find them, but until then he would keep quiet and not draw enemy attention to himself. 

At last the battle calmed and before Barricade knew it, the fighting was over. The remaining Elite and Enforcers working for Tyrest and Star Saber had surrendered and thrown down their weapons, the army led by Impactor and the others coming upon the dead.

“We got two live ones over here. Medic! We need a medic!” Impactor’s voice roared over the din after he discovered Prowl and Barricade. “Hook, over here!”

The green and purple Constructicon came loping over with two unnamed medics, the three mechs swift to gather up Prowl and Barricade. Barricade shrieked and snarled when he was moved and pulled apart from Prowl, panicking about not being able to see Prowl. Where were they taking him? What were they going to do to him?

“Calm down, we’re the good guys,” one of the medics soothed, trying to keep the thrashing sedan from falling out of his arms. “Easy, easy! You’re going to make your wounds worse, pal.”

Barricade eventually passed out from his struggled, the medics relieved that the new patient wasn’t causing a ruckus anymore. Hook gave them their orders and off they went with Prowl and Barricade, rushing them into the nearest hospital. For now the pair was alive, but they had some serious wounds that needed treating. 

***

Crankcase and Hoist made it to the balcony after pushing through the crowd of soldiers, Ultra Magnus letting them through once he was sure they weren’t there to harm anyone. Their sparks sank when they saw Ramjet and Thrust kneeling by a gray frame, the two former owners knowing full well who their Seekers were mourning. 

Ramjet turned when he heard someone approaching. Without a word he rose and padded over to Crankcase, the gruff blue and yellow mech opening his arms for the aerial. He embraced Ramjet tightly, hugging him as close to his frame as he could. He hoped the Seeker knew how much he was loved, how much he meant to him. 

“Crankcase, we lost Dirge…” Ramjet whispered, surprisingly not in tears yet. It was likely due to shock, his optics wide and oddly distant. “But you’re alive and okay, and I still have Thrust…thank Primus I didn’t lose everyone.”

“We’ll help you through it, Ramjet. I love you,” Crankcase murmured into the Seeker’s cheek. Ramjet finally started to sob once he heard that, clinging to his former owner like a lifeline. Thrust and Hoist were in a very similar position as well, Hoist cradling Thrust’s frame to his.

The war for freedom was over at long last, though. Optimus had stepped back from the edge of the balcony and closed his chest plates, sealing the energy and light of the Matrix away. He was helped towards the doorway by Ultra Magnus, the mech nodding his thanks to those who had fought for what was right. 

Ratchet and First Aid were on the scene next, hurrying to get Jazz into a stable condition while Helex and Tesarus were told to sit right where they were and wait for repairs themselves. Neither brute seemed to mind the orders, too tired to bother going anywhere. They sat down with heavy thumps and tried their best to stay out of the way to wait.

“Hold still…” Fulcrum huffed, trying to help patch some of Tesarus’ many bullet wounds. “They can’t get to you yet, so let me help.”

“Quit touching it!” Tesarus snapped, trying to push Fulcrum away despite the mech’s good-natured advances. 

“Don’t push Fulcrum,” Helex growled back, trying to keep Tesarus from causing trouble. Fulcrum appreciated it and continued to fuss over the grinder’s wounds. 

Spinister and Kaon were talking to one another, wrapped up tight in an embrace. The helicopter’s hands soon slid down to the electric chair’s rounded belly to give it a pat, cocking his helm to the side. 

“You put the little guys in danger.”

“You needed me and I’d be damned if I didn’t come help. The sparklings are fine, they know their Carrier is a good killer and wouldn’t get hurt on a hunt,” Kaon assured, sending Spinister a sweet smile. For anyone else looking it would have appeared creepy and unsettling, but for Spinister it was Kaon and he loved him for all his little quirks. 

The helicopter nuzzled into the top of Kaon’s helm, murmuring something about how both of them were good at killing things and that he was excited for the twins. They wouldn’t have to fight unless they wanted to. There was freedom now to be whatever one wanted, whether it was a Decepticon, Autobot, or Neutral. The battle that day had made it all possible again.

“Alright, you two. Let’s get those bullets out and patch you up,” Ratchet’s gruff voice said from across the landing pad, at last coming to deal with Tesarus and Helex. The brutes didn’t protest, too tired and sore to bother. Fulcrum stayed close, keeping them calm and behaved. 

Jazz was stable now, Atomizer and Swift hovering nearby. They felt out of place, the pair eventually making their way to the doors to meander back down to the streets. On their way they passed Misfire and Vos, the triumphant pair jogging to the balcony to make sure their friends were okay. Atomizer snagged Misfire’s shoulder before he ran past, the jet turning to look at him. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, worry on his faceplate. Vos chittered, the spindly mech perched atop Misfire’s shoulders like a deadly cyber-parrot. 

“Dirge died, so Ramjet’s in a bad way. Crankcase is pretty upset, so try to give them some space. The others are battered but okay, though,” he said, the warning given before he slipped away. He needed some time to think, his genericon close on his heels. 

Misfire sprinted the rest of the way to the balcony, rushing in to find a mess of bodies, energon, and the survivors milling about. Ratchet was finishing up Tesarus while First Aid worked around Helex, neither mech looking happy about the field repairs. Fulcrum assured that it would be over soon, turning his head and spotting Misfire’s arrival in the process. 

“Hey, loser,” Misfire said, wings flicking in greeting as he made his way to the other mech. “How are you guys?”

“Sore but we’re alive,” Fulcrum said, wincing as First Aid began to clean a gash on his upper arm. “Crankcase isn’t doing too well though. Ramjet’s trine leader died and now they’re in all sorts of pain.”

“I can see that,” Misfire sighed, glancing over to find Crankcase hugging Ramjet very tight while Hoist was sitting down with a terrified Thrust. Once a Seeker bond was broken, it literally took part of the living mechs soul. It ached and would always be a reminder that one of the trine had been lost, the toll clearly felt by both the surviving Coneheads. 

“Missssssfyyyyrrrre,” Vos crooned, nuzzling into his companion’s cheek before he clambered down from his shoulders. The gun former went to check on Helex and Tesarus, chittering and hissing at them in his language. A few words of Neocybex were spoken, but not many. Those ugly words he saved just for Misfire.

“How did you two fare?” Fulcrum asked, seeing that neither Misfire nor Vos were badly damaged.

“Oh, we did really well! When I have Vos as my weapon I don’t miss anymore! He blasted us through the worst of it and then Impactor and Bonecrusher paved the way with the rest of the heavyweights in the front. It was pretty fragging epic, Fulcrum! I wish you guys had been there to see it. But after the smoke bombs Jazz went missing and the whole thing nearly fell apart if it wasn’t for Onslaught, Ironhide, and a couple of the other veteran war generals.”

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Fulcrum said softly, surprised when he found himself with an armful of Vos, the sniper rifle cuddling against him. 

“Yesssss, good. Good Helex, Tesssarusss, and Fulcrrrum sssafe,” Vos hissed, sweet as could be. Normally Fulcrum found the mech to be freakish and unsettling, but he couldn’t help embracing the little imp before he let Vos scamper back onto Misfire’s shoulders. 

“Will we see you guys back at the apartment?”

“Yep, we’re heading there now after grabbing some chow. Want me to get you and the big buys some stuff?”

“Pick enough up for everyone. I have a feeling we’re going to have a lot of company,” Fulcrum said, intending to invite Swift, Atomizer, and a handful of other mechs who had helped save the day. Misfire nodded, playfully flicking Fulcrum’s helm before he trotted away. 

“You better pay me back for all this food, y’know!” 

Fulcrum shouted that he would at Misfire’s retreating form, grunting when he felt a big digit poke into his side. 

“What, Tess?”

“The doc says we’re good to go if we rest and take it easy. Helex is already halfway off the balcony,” the grinder snickered, the blue and yellow smelter struggling to pick his way around some Enforcer carcasses. “Want a hand?” 

Fulcrum nodded, grasping Tesarus’ big paw of a hand in his so the hulking mech could help him up. Then they walked together to the door of the balcony where Helex waited loyally for them both. Once they stepped out of the landing platform and into the Senator building, they each felt true peace. Things were going to be different now. Different in the best of ways.

***

Mirage and Thundercracker flew back to their apartment, the Noble’s legs shaking as he was finally set down by the turquoise and black aerial on solid ground. Thundercracker ruffled his armor, shaking off some dust and other debris he had collected during the fight. They said nothing to each other, simply retreating to the wash rack for a good rinse. 

After they had bathed one another they entered the berth room, lavishly decorated and covered in plush blankets and pillows. Thundercracker wasted no time in rolling onto the berth, letting out a deep sigh. He could finally relax, although the throbbing area of his neck reminded him that he had nearly died that day. But at least Tyrest was gone, ripped to shreds by Impactor and Bonecrusher. He would never be able to harm anyone else again even if most of the damage had already been done.

“Thundercracker,” Mirage said, his voice surprisingly gentle and void of any snobbish terseness. The Seeker sat up and offered his owner a small smile, the mech never one for grand shows of affection. 

Mirage walked over to the side of the berth and leaned down to wrap his arms around the aerial’s neck, embracing him tightly. Thundercracker rumbled, deep voice soothing even if it sounded surprised and unsure. He had no idea what Mirage wanted with him, about to ask if his master wanted to interface or something else.

“You’re free now,” Mirage whispered, sounding a bit choked up even. “You can go. Find your trine mates and make a life for yourself. I…I have no need of you anymore.”

“I’m still your pet, Mirage. There’s just no collar right now but I’m sure new ones will be made without killswitches-”

“No!” Mirage snapped, glowing fiercely at Thundercracker. “I don’t want you anymore! I don’t need a pet or a slave or whatever you were! I want you out of my house so you can find your trine mates and the mechs you want to be with.”

Thundercracker slid off the berth, wings held at an angle that said he was unsure exactly what Mirage wanted. Was he being truthful by sending him away? Or was he simply using this as a way to test his loyalty? When the Seeker saw the glistening wetness on Mirage’s cheeks he realized that the order to leave wasn’t for Mirage’s benefit, but his own. The blue and white Noble’s energy field reeked of shame and sorrow, the normally cold and terse mech feeling the brunt of his actions and those of the Autobots in general. 

They had made such horrible mistakes and Thundercracker had nearly died for them.

“Get out!” Mirage spat, motioning his hand angrily. “I don’t want you anymore, you wretch! What about that don’t you understand?!”

Thundercracker did the opposite of leave, instead wrapping Mirage up in his arms. Tugging the sports model close to his chest, the turquoise Seeker nuzzled into the top of his former owner’s helm.

“What if I want to stay? Not as a pet, but as your companion?”

Mirage hiccuped a tiny sob, washer fluid finally spilling out of his optics as he buried his faceplate into Thundercracker’s chest plates. He was so horrified by what he had done to the gorgeous creature that was Thundercracker, the images of his neck suddenly gushing with energon after the collar cut into it burned in Mirage’s memories.

“I’m so sorry, Thundercracker. I have never been so ashamed…everything I did to you…” he whispered, reaching up to touch the cauterized wound on the aerial’s neck. Thundercracker shook his helm, tipping Mirage’s chin up so he could press a kiss to his lips. 

“Hush,” Thundercracker murmured, rubbing the pads of his thumbs across Mirage’s cheeks to wipe away the tears there. “We’ll work it out.”

And so they did, the pair standing together in the middle of the berthroom while outside their balcony the winds of change blew on.


End file.
